


Insufficient || Larry AU

by Sonny_Ball



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bullying, Depressing, F/M, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Trigger Warning!, suicidal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-02-06 08:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1851490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny_Ball/pseuds/Sonny_Ball





	1. || prologue || + 01 || Faux Hope ||

_"_ _Everyone has a story, some are just not as keen on sharing theirs like others."_

**Prologue:**

You think you know someone until you take a walk in their shoes; they could have ugly shoes that are worn out or beautiful shoes that everyone wants. You never really know anyone either; even the best of friends have secrets; secrets that they take to their grave. And it's sad to think about everyone who goes through the ugly shoes stage because they have it the worst. The people who are fortunately gifted with the beautiful shoes have nothing to worry about. Everybody loves them.

And maybe some stories are worse than others but it doesn't mean that their story isn't as bad. Some stories include a boy with sad, green eyes, whom never had a friend. He tried and tried until one day, he just gave up; gave up on everything. The boy with sad, green eyes locked himself in his room days at a time until he was forced upon school, where his eyes grew sadder. People made fun of him, _boys_ made fun of him; and if he hadn't given up, he would have tried to befriend them, to ask what he had done to deserve such cruelty and disrespect from his fellow students, but he _had_ given up so he just kept walking, everyone oblivious to the tears running down his cheeks and onto his nose. He hid in the bathroom during several classes; the classes in which the worst bullies were. He avoided them and on his best days, he got away without any new bruises, but those days didn't come as often as he preferred. The opposite days, he would come home and run as fast as he could to his room, ignoring the pain that shot through his veins. He would take off all of his clothing and run his fingers over the sore spots, indicating if he needed to try to cover it up for the next day. Every day was the same, although some nights were different, whether his father came home drunk or his mother came home with the smell of weed lingering on her scent.

Another story includes a boy with bright, blue eyes that shined and glistened. He never had to try for things, as they came easily for him; he never had to try as hard as the boy with sad, green eyes. The boy, eyes lit with emotion, easily made friends, even if they weren't as close as others. He nearly got good grades in everything, aside from the time he fell asleep reading a book and failed his math quiz. But this boy was not, quote on quote, a "nerd". He was quite the opposite, really; popular, but not. He avoided the boy with sad, green eyes only due to the fact that he did not want to upset his so-called friends, though he saw the sadness deep within the shade of green, and he saw the dark bruises littering his body even if no one had touched him the day before. He questioned things like this every time his eyes landed on the frightened boy, but he wouldn't dare make a move. He also questioned if he was doing the right thing by ignoring the sad emotion and teary eyes. His friends talked about the young boy, mentioning the beatings they had given or were planning on giving to him and it made his chest ache to think of the boy with sad, green eyes with even more pain and evidence than he already had to deal with. He told himself plenty of times that he was going to stick up for the boy but he never did; and he shouldn't have been shocked when the school announced his suicide, though an hour later bringing the students in his grade back to declare that he had been brought back through a miracle. He expected someone to scream, or yell, telling everyone in the room what idiots they've been to bully him to suicide, but no one did. No one laughed, either, but he knew his hopes of everyone leaving him alone were shattered when the people who sat at his lunch table conversed about the things they were going to say to him when he returned. The feeling in his stomach never left for the entire day, and finally subsided when he went to bed late that night.

The boy with those sad, green eyes that were now stained red for the time being had been crying ever since he was brought back to life. He tried unplugging several cords, but the nurse had caught him in the act before he did something disastrous. She had handcuffed him to his bed, where he laid for about a week until his mother insisted he was fine enough to go home; he was far from it. Nonetheless, he returned and the nightly routine had missed its arrival so he decided to go to bed. He thought about all those kids at school that punched him, or kicked him, or even mentioned a small, thoughtless word. He thought about how he was supposed to face them; he was sure they all knew of his permanent solution that ended up being not so permanent. He was also sure that they were going to make fun of him even more until he finally did it again, though planning not to fail. He didn't sleep until late that night.  
  
 _ **~.~**_

Yelling was heard downstairs as I woke up, unfortunately (for both problems). I stay in my room, plugging in my headphones at some point until my alarm goes off. Today was the day that I had been dreading, thoughts bringing tears to my eyes. I scan my wrists, brushing the old cuts from before the hospital and thinking of how bad they were going to turn out after today. I throw on a pair of sweats, favorably to hide the fat that everyone seems to be interested in mentioning to me. I grab a clean sweater and put it under a hoodie, pulling both sleeves down past my wrists. I put on socks and a pair of shoes that I convinced my mom to buy me last year. I stand up straight, though not feeling tall at all on the inside, rather vice versa. I brush my teeth quickly before grabbing my bag and walking out the door. I take three deep breaths before heading incredibly slow to school.

Once inside, I rush to my locker, managing to open it without anyone slamming it shut. The hallways were empty, due to the fact that school had started thirty minutes ago. I knew how much trouble I would get at home when the school decided to call my parents, but I didn't worry about it; it was already written in the stars to happen.

I turn around and take notice of the boy that had just finished walking down the stairs and now looked up to see me. I had seen this boy around school; he hung out with every single person here, aside from me. We both froze, eyes darting up and down each figure into reaching the eyes. His eyes were bright blue and full of life, while I assumed mine were the opposite (and green). I knew he wouldn't hit me, but I was unsure if he would have someone else do it for him. We were both silent until he took notice of the time and landed his eyes back on me.

"Are you okay?" He whispers and I successfully not break down directly in front of him.

"Sure, why wouldn't I be?" I tell him the exact lie I tell every teacher (that bothers to ask) and the same lie I told my therapist back when my parents paid for one. I expect him to believe it just as well as the others.

"Because you're not okay." He responds, looking concerned but I've grown to realize that it's just pity, though I award him for giving it a chance.

"No one seems to care about that, so I'm okay." I answer before walking away. I peer at the clock and notice why he rushed with his words for class ends in five minutes. I avoid going to my first hour and just wait out the bell. When it finally does go off, I rush to choir, sitting in the back with the rest of the basses, hoping that if there is a God, he would help me at this moment in time.

_"Say something, I'm giving up on you."_

**Chapter** **01** **||** _Faux Hope_ **||**

_H_

"I want each of you to write a full report on the chosen novel and bring it tomorrow! Let's see how well you students work under pressure." My English teacher announces right before the bell goes off. Usually we have study hall before and after school, but the classes are different on certain days when some teachers need to converse with each other about their given course. The boy with bright blue eyes is in this class and I feel obligated to speak to him one last time as a goodbye but I can't bring myself to do it. He seems to be filled with people every time I see him, including Zayn.

I had been avoided all day (thankfully) and I was finally able to feel peace as I walk to my locker. Unfortunately for me, as soon as the lock clicked open, someone came over and slammed it shut. I look up and swim in the chocolate eyes that belong to Zayn. Zayn is a very close friend to the unknown boy, though I've never seen him try to stop Zayn for what he does to me.

"I heard you got hospitalized." He mumbles. I am quite shocked that he would mumble something like that instead of screaming it to the entire hallway, so I nervously nod, gulping down saliva before I ponder on the thought of it being blood. "Because of me, right?" He doesn't sound the least bit sincere, and I wished at that moment for something heroic to happen; perhaps, he could start crying and apologizing though I would ignore it and walk away. "Answer me," He snaps and I realize how long I've been silent.

"N-no." I stutter and mentally slam my face and a brick wall because you're not supposed to stutter in front of anyone, especially a bully; no one can know how weak I truly am.

"Yeah, right, faggot." He mumbles. "Just because you decided to come back to life doesn't mean I'll save you sympathy. No one wanted you to come back, so I don't know why you tried."

"I'm sorry." I whisper and I really am.

"You should be. Why don't you try again tonight, and the night after that, and so on? No one here would miss you and I certainly don't believe anyone at home would bat an eyelash if you did."

"I am very well aware of that, Zayn," I snap, feeling my heart race as I avoid his eye contact. "I am very well aware of how no one cares about me or wants me or anything. And I am certainly well aware that you don't give two shits about anything I do but I will tell you that I didn't want to come back. I didn't want to come back to school; I didn't want to come back to you; and I certainly did not want to come back to my godforsaken parents so it I had a choice right now, we wouldn't be having this conversation because I would be dead. I _will_ try again tonight and I _will_ try again tomorrow and every day until I don't have to wake up to everyone at home treating me like shit and everyone here wanting me dead. Is that what you wanted to hear, Zayn? because it's the truth. I have given up on everyone and everything and it's finally time that I give up on myself." I dart my eyes quickly to his emotionless ones before walking away, ignoring the fact that I need to take books home for homework.

What was honestly the point or anyone and anything? I've tried and I can't seem to feel accomplished for telling Zayn off, specifically because it was the truth. I had been planning on trying again soon (even if tonight was sooner than planned) so, honestly, what was the point? I was going to be dead anyway and they've made it completely clear that no one would give a damn if I had died that night.

I close my eyes and wish for nothing more than to be dead. I wish this wish every time I see a shooting star, or every time I catch the clock on eleven eleven. This wish means truly everything to me and I wish the wish would come true.

I reach home later than usual after stopping at a store for three bottles of sleep pills, responding to the worried looks with " _it's for my mother; she hasn't slept well lately and asked for me to buy her some_ ". When I open the front door, I am extremely shocked (more than I was earlier that day) to find both of my parents home, watching television. When they take notice of my presence, my mother smiles; a genuine smile. I grip the bag full of pills tightly before walking up to my room and locking the door behind me to prevent anyone from entering. I take each bottle out with care, taking in the color of the bottle and the pure whiteness of the pill itself. The last time I had attempted, I had hung myself (apparently my parents had found me just as I grew unconscious), averting me from seeing the beauty within a circular pill.

Was that strange?

Of course it was strange but I couldn't bring myself to think anything differently that clearly wasn't the least bit true. I pour out all three bottles, shoving the containers under my bed in case I needed to pack up quickly if I got sick instead of dying. I go downstairs to get a water bottle, evading conversation with my parents who surely were forced to stay home to their ill son.

Once inside the comfort zone of my room, I lock the door behind me again. The sun has begun to set and I feel the familiar stinging in my eyes but instead of holding them back, I let them flow, because who was watching? I walk over to the window and stare at the sunset for what feels like hours until darkness takes over and I feel the chill sneaking in through the crack underneath the glass. I open it completely, feeling overwhelmed by the cold creeping up my spine. My hair starts to blow back as if in slow motion. Perhaps, this is happiness because as I felt the wind freeze my wet cheeks and blow through my hair, I feel okay.

Actually okay.

I had forgotten, even for a moment, about everything anyone has said to me. I close my eyes and just embrace the night until I can't stand anymore and sit on my knees. I lean my head against the ledge and look up at the stars. They are tiny, yet beautiful, and I wonder if everything was going okay for the peculiar boy with beautiful blue eyes. I had forgotten what it felt like to have no friends as I continued to stare at the stars because they were up there, each as lonely as the next, contemplating how long they had before the sun would come up and swallow them whole. And for a moment, I felt okay.

But moments like these don't last long for me.

My mother and father had woken me from my slumber at noon the next day, complaining about how they couldn't come in because of the lock securely protecting me. I got up and walked to the door before quickly stumbling to hide the pills in an abandoned drawer. When I manage to open the door, my father grabs my jaw tightly in his thumb and forefinger and tells me to get my ass ready for school. I oblige after he releases me and make my way towards school after receiving a few nasty words about my appearance and knowledge.

Reaching for English (how it normally would be), I stop by my locker to quickly grab my books. Anxiety creeps up on me when I realize that I hadn't done a single thing my teachers asked me to do, including the essay for the pending hour. I walk in with my late slip and try not to think about everyone staring at me, as well as Zayn and his friend.

I sit in the back and notice Zayn watching my every move but I quickly recover when I realize that he was probably upset that he couldn't beat me up before school started.

"Mr. Styles, how about _you_ read your report on the book you've chosen." The teacher's eyes flick to where I sit, every students' following. I feel my heartbeat in my throat as I respond.

"I didn't get it done, sir." Snickers are heard everywhere and I feel sick to my stomach; the kind that travels up to your chest.

"And why not?"

"Busy night." I mumble an apology as a random student reads about children being sent to a shower full of steam to their death. People are just as cruel in the real world as they are now.

The bell rings about half an hour later after several students read their reports and everyone sighs in relief, fear of being picked vanishing. I pack my things quickly and rush to the bathrooms near the cafeteria and wait it out. I hide in a stall with a math notebook, determined to get some studying done while everyone conversed. My plans were soon deflated when footsteps were heard just before someone shut the door. My anxiety quickens when I notice the familiar high tops that Zayn wears underneath the stall door.

"I know you're in here, Styles." He says before slamming a door on the far left open. I jump slightly, my bottom lip quivering. I can feel the mark my father made this morning stretching on my skin. The second door slams against the wall and I jump again. "It would be so much easier if you just came out." The third door slams. My breath quickens when realization hits me as hard as the fourth door does the wall: he has two left. "I'm going to take a guess and say-" His foot hits the door of the stall I am currently sitting in but it doesn't bulge. "Bingo." I see him getting on his hands and knees before his face comes in view with a smirk. "Hello there."

I quickly scoot as far away from the door as I can, not being able to stop him from moving underneath and sitting and leaning against the stall door. He's still smirking as he sees me making more space between us.

"What do you want?" I whisper, leaning on my knees, watching him with cautious eyes.

"I see you're not dead."

"Not yet," I'm still whispering, yet I know there is no one else listening.

"What stopped you?" I want to pretend that he doesn't care but I can see the hint of curiosity deep within his eyes.

I almost say " _the sun and the moon_ " or something like " _life_ " but I stop myself when I realize how stupid it sounds. I keep silent, watching him watching me until he sighs deeply, making me jump.

"Nothing?" He questions.

"No, absolutely not." I respond defensively. Nothing was stopping me but I couldn't come up with a reasonable response besides, "why do you care?"

"I don't." He says it too quickly as if he was expecting the question to come up.

"Then go." I mumble and it's silent for a while. I shove my face in my knees as deep as it can go without hurting my neck and then shut my eyes, hoping for a nap. It takes a few minutes before I hear his breathing and he is still sitting opposite of me. I look up and find him staring back. "Can I help you?"

"No." He responds, continuing to stare.

It takes me several seconds to react; but when I do, I grab my notebook and stand up.

"Where are you going?"

"Idunno," I answer truthfully. "maybe somewhere to think."

"You're leaving school, in the middle of the day?"

"Yeah?" I answer but it comes more as a question. He stands but doesn't move from in front of the exit. "Can you move?"

"Sure." He slides over and I open the stall door. Before I can get to the bathroom door though, he stands in front of it as well.

"This one, too."

He sighs and I almost believe that he will.

"You know what I haven't figured out?" He asks mockingly.

"What?"

"Why I haven't beaten your ass yet."

"You know what I haven't figured out as well?"

He just hums.

"Why I ever woke back up; why I am not dead." It's silent for another few seconds until I ask him to move again.

"I don't think I will."

"Why not?"

"Because you're just not good enough for anyone to be around; I think it's fortunate that I've lasted as long as I have."

"I'm insufficient, I know." I mutter.

"What?" He looks confused before finally understanding. "Yeah, insufficient you are."

"Well aware, Zayn."

He takes a deep breath, letting it out just as deeply. He eyes me for a moment, taking his time.

"I'm sorry for insulting you."

"You should be," I mock him. "for more than just that."

"Don't be a dick." He scoffs.

"That's being a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

He walks closer and towers over me. "You think you can just kill yourself and everything will be better but it won't."

"I know."

"You _are_ insufficient, aren't you?" He teases. "I bet everyone at home wishes you were useful."

I want to believe I am shocked that he is being himself again but I don't and I am not. "Like you wouldn't believe. Can I go, now?"

"Are you going to cry?"

"I think I've done enough of that."

"You think you're so tough but you're just a wimp."

"I know I am weak," I agree, growing tired of waiting. "and I know nothing is going to change now that God has spared my insufficient life so you don't have to keep reminding me."

There's a hint of something in his eyes but I don't care enough to look for it. He moves out of the way, allowing access to which I gratefully accept. As soon as I walk out, I am hit with a body, both of us stumbling on the ground. It is him: the blue eyed boy. I stand up quickly and rush out, afraid of what he had to say. Once I step outside, the tears start flooding out.


	2. 02 || Pick Up the Broken Pieces ||

                 

_"I kind of need a hero, is it you?"_

**Chapter 02 ||** _Pick Up the Broken Pieces_ **||**

                             
                         

When I return home, I run to my room and close the door quietly, hoping I don’t give any sign of my attendance. I set my bag in the corner of my room and lay face first on my bed. It doesn’t feel as comforting as I need it to be.

 

I don’t remember when I fell asleep but I woke up feeling numb. I thought that maybe the window had been opened during my slumber but in reality it was the air vent. I could also faintly hear the sound of chatter downstairs and that was a sure sign that my mother’s friends were over, smoking weed and drinking strong alcohol.

 

I pull myself up, wiping the sleep from my eye and noticing the six four three on the clock. I walk up to my window and climb through it, closing it shut behind me. I grab onto the nearby tree and slowly climb down. When I reach the ground, I shove my hands in my jacket pockets and walk to the park.

 

I rub another wave of sleep out of my eye before sitting on the bench. I watch the sun fade to a beautiful pink and wait for everyone to leave. Looking around I see that a young boy has fallen and injured his knee but before I can get up to help him, a boy his age comes running up to him. The young boy helps the hurt boy to his mother where they all leave, assuming to wrap up the sore. I feel a familiar pain in my chest that doesn’t disappear until everyone in the park has vanished along with the sun. I look up to the sky and peer at the thousands – possibly millions from where I sit – of stars looking back at me.

 

I get up and lay flat on the ground, flicking my eyes from star to star until I land on one far away from the others. Even though it’s further away, it seems to shine the brightest for me. I close my eyes, imagining myself as a star though feeling disappointed when I realize I would be the dullest of them all.

 

**_~.~_ **

 

I feel warmth. My eyes peel open, jerking quickly when I feel the fabric of a blanket lying on top of me. I lean up and look around at the foreign room while feeling a bit of distress. I pull the blankets off below my torso and stand up, feeling dizzy as soon as I do. I fall back on the bed and grab my head when the door opens.

  
                         

I don’t know who I was expecting, but it sure wasn’t Zayn. He walks in with a glass of water and furrows his eyebrows when he sees me sitting up.

 

“You need to lie back down,” He walks over and sets the glass on the nightstand. He looks at me, waiting for me to obey. “I’m serious, Harry. It was freezing out there; you need to rest.”

 

“What are you talking about?” My voice comes out rough and tired. _He_ couldn’t have possibly helped me; or even just take me out of the public eye; or maybe he did; it would be easier to beat me up if I was vulnerable and cold.

 

“You know what I’m talking about.” He replies, crossing his arms over his chest. When neither of us moves, he starts to walk out of the room before stopping at the doorway. “Don’t leave; I will be right back.” And he departs.

 

I eye the cup of liquid, wondering if I should dare drink it. What if he just wants me to get sick so I’ll be even more vulnerable? I leave the cup untouched and rub my eye slowly, feeling the cool tips of my fingers on my eyelid. In seconds, the door opens again.

 

But yet again, I am surprised.

 

The blue eyed boy – yes, _him_ – walks in holding a blanket around himself. He gives me a small, shy smile before looking away. He clears his throat softly and I wonder if he is going to speak but nothing comes out. I flick my eyes to where he’s staring and see my shoes propped up in a corner with a new pair of socks.

 

“I can leave if you want; you just had to say so.” I stand up but when he turns his head to look at me, I immediately sit back down.

 

“You can’t possibly think I would want you to leave.” I say nothing, but wait for him to say something else. He waits a few seconds before replying with, “Are you okay?”

 

“Perfectly fine,” I answer.

 

“Don’t lie to me.” He walks over and sits next to me.

 

“I’m not.” Though we both know that neither response were true.

 

He clears his throat. “I guess now would be a good time to tell you my name. I’m Louis.”

 

“The boy who talks to everyone except the outcast, which you’d think would need it the most.” I look away as he signs heavily; he is already regretting this, I know it.

 

“I would have if I could’ve, you know that.”

 

I snap my face towards his. “Do I? Because I’m pretty sure the last time I checked I killed myself the other day because of everyone. You’d think I would have reconsidered if I had a friend.”

 

“You have friends.” I am on the brink of tears and he realizes. “Don’t you?”

 

I rub my eye with the back of my hand and turn away. I change the subject, bringing it back a bit. “Well, you already know who I am.”

 

I feel the moment disappear at my snide comment and I am quick to apologize.

 

“No it’s fine,” He tells me. “I _do_ know who you are, I just didn’t know if you knew me or not and I wanted this to be as normal as it can be.”

 

“I don’t think it can when my number one fan is in the other room.”

 

He looks at the door. “Zayn?”

 

I start to get defensive. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t know that he beats the shit out of me.”

 

“I _do_ know.” He doesn’t continue so I choose that as a conversation ender.

 

I stand up and walk over to my shoes. I pick them up and quickly walk out of the room, only to be bumped into by Zayn.

 

“Harry, you can’t leave.”

 

I glare my eyes. “Watch me.” I start to walk past him, but he grips my biceps and pulls me back. “I’m serious, Zayn. _This is basically kidnapping_.”

 

He puts on that sick smirk, even if I knew it was all an act now. “It’s only kidnapping if someone were to miss you while you were gone.”

 

That did it. I felt the tears fall down my cheeks and a familiar pain shoot through my chest. _This_ is why I attempted suicide. I tightened my lips together and felt my eyebrows furrow a bit. I probably looked like an idiot. My throat clenches and unclenches and my heart feels like someone is squeezing it and releasing it, only to give me the satisfaction of disappointment.

 

“You know what? I am _sick_ and _tired_ of you and everyone else.”

 

And I did it. I punched him.

 

Right in the jaw.

 

He falls backwards and lands on his bottom while I just stand there. Reality hits me and I start to run out but another pair of arms wraps around my torso and pulls me back.

 

“Harry.” Louis pleads. “Please.”

 

“Don’t touch me.” I whisper, repeating it in a louder tone.

 

“Harry, just breathe.” He kept trying to calm me down while I screamed out threats to him if he didn’t let me go.

 

He didn’t.

 

After a while, I start to slowly sink towards the ground, pulling Louis down with me. I kept crying and crying. I felt like such a failure; I wasn’t even proud of myself for hitting Zayn; I had scooped to their level and now I was just as much of a bully as they were.

 

Eventually the light kicks off and what little vision I have through my tears has faded to nothing.

 

 

 

_L_

 

 

 

_“Zayn?” I ask. I was currently finishing my math homework of twenty problems. “Why are you calling me?” He usually just comes over; a phone call is scarce._

_“Louis, I need you to come over. Right now.” His voice sounds urgent and I begin to worry._

_“What’s wrong? Did you get in a fight?”_

_“No, but I found something. I promise to explain but I_ need _you to come as quickly as you can. I’m panicking, mate.”_

_I hang up the phone after telling him I was on my way. I pack my things up and plan to finish them before the night was over. I grab my cell phone and walk out the door, leaving a note behind for my mother when she returned from her job in case I was not home by then._

_It doesn’t take me but fourteen minutes to reach Zayn’s house and I feel the panic building up at the imperative tone he had. I open the door without permission to see Zayn sitting on the side of the couch, biting his fingernails: a common effect of worry._

_“Zayn, tell me what’s wrong.” I walk over to him as he stands up quickly._

_“He was just there outside, asleep. I didn’t know what to do so I brought him here. You’re good under pressure._ Help me _.”_

_“Who is it?”_

_He leads me to his bedroom, where the door is open slightly. When he pushes it further, I see the figure lying softly on the bed._

_Harry._

Zayn returns with his hand holding an ice pack to his bruised jaw. He doesn’t look angry or upset for Harry’s outburst, but I know he is just dying to say something.

 

“You alright?”

 

He scoffs. “Of course I’m not, Louis.”

 

“You kind of had it coming.” I attempt to make a small joke but it is not at all hilarious to him.

 

“Yeah, I get it, okay? I’m a dick. Drop it.”

 

Harry lays curled up in my arms, his head pressed against my chest. He is snoring softly and I feel bliss knowing he is okay in his dreams.

 

“Tell me something.”

 

“What?”

 

“Anything; what’s going on in your mind right now.”

 

_“What is he doing here? Did you and your buddies beat him so bad you had to bring him here?” I was furious. How dare he still do this to him._

_“No! Louis, I told you I stopped physically abusing him-”_

_“Oh, so I guess verbally abusing him is okay then?”_

_“I asked you to come so you could help me, not criticize everything I say.”_

_“I will not help you ruin this boy.”_

_“That’s not what’s happening, Lou.” I look at him through curious eyes. “He was out in the park, you know, by the place in the trees we go to sometimes to get away? I thought he was dead at first but then I saw his chest move. But his lips were blue, like ice blue and he was freezing.”_

_“Why did you bring him back, honestly?”_

_He pauses for a moment, looking at Harry’s sleeping presence. He looks back at me. “For you.”_

“Talking isn’t the best thing for me.”

 

“Well, tell me why you’re upset.”

 

He’s getting irritable. “I’m not upset!”

 

“Yes, you are. I know you, Zayn. What’s bothering you?”

 

“Nothing! Leave it alone.”

 

He’s at his breaking point. “Zayn-”

 

“Shut up!” He slams the ice pack on the floor and Harry jerks in my arms, sleep disturbed and interrupted. His eyes flutter open but I wrap my arm around his head so my elbow is at his chin and softly rub his cheek, whispering sweet nothings into his ear until his eyes drooped again.

 

I slowly rise up and carry him to Zayn’s vacant bedroom. I set him on the bed and cover him contentedly. When I turn around, Zayn is behind me with crossed arms.

 

“So, this is about Harry, isn’t it?”

 

_For me? “What do you mean?”_

_“You told me a few days ago not to mess with Harry anymore.” He doesn’t look upset but concerned. “I know why.”_

_“There is no reason; maybe you should just stop bullying people to suicide.”_

“No, it’s not.” He snaps. “Why would it be about him?”

 

The tone in his voice makes my skin burn and I am equally as harsh. “You need to stop being so rude to him.”

 

He takes a deep sigh before apologizing. “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. It’s Harry.”

 

“What about Harry?”

 

“Look at him.” His voice wavers and his eyes start to water.

 

_The look on his face immediately sent me to guilt. “Zayn, no, I didn’t mean that-”_

_“No, you’re right. I made him kill himself. It was me, but I wanted to fix him. I wanted to make him see that life isn’t always as bad as he sees it.” He gulps down what I assume to be a sob. “I wanted him to be happy. And you make him happy.”_

_“He hardly knows me.”_

_He looks me dead in the eye. “But you’re the only one who hasn’t hurt him.”_

“I broke him.” He continues. He stops for a second (I assume to ease the pain that’s probably made its way into his chest). “He’ll never be the same again. He’ll always be like this.”

 

“He won’t always be, not if you stop being cruel to him.”

 

“But what will everyone else think? What will Harry think? It’s not right. I _have_ to do this.”

 

“Well if you _have_ to, then I don’t think we can be friends anymore, Zayn.”

 

He rubs his hand down his face stressfully. “That’s not what I meant.”

 

“Then what did you mean?” I cross my arms across my chest just as Harry moves on the bed. His hand slowly falls off the bed, then his head following behind, hanging limply. The sleeve of his sweater gradually rolls up, revealing tens to hundreds of cuts just on the one arm alone.

 

I can hear the sound of Zayn gulping behind me.

 

“Look at what I’ve done.”

 

It’s barely above a whisper, but I heed it as good as day.

 

“You can still fix him, you know.”

 

His voice wavers again. “No I can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Look at him,” He repeats. “Look how broken he is. Once you get so far in, there’s no way out.”


	3. 03 || This Is It ||

                

_“Stay with me, don’t disappear. To tell the truth, I need you here. I’m afraid, I can barely breathe. I need your words, to comfort me.”_

            

                       

**Chapter 03** **||** _This Is It_ **||**

_H_

 

It is seven o’clock in the morning when I wake up. I try to remember what happened prior to this moment but I am going blank. I start to get frustrated, but I quickly recover and stand to my feet. It takes only a few seconds for the dizziness to disappear and I am shoving my shoes on before I can convince myself not to. I exit the house without being caught and I push my sleeves further down.

I finally reach my house in several minutes and I am thankful that neither of my parents cares enough to stay home. (It’s funny because this will always be my house but it will never be my home.) I go upstairs and throw myself on my bed but all thoughts of getting some more sleep vanish.

Ever since I left Zayn’s house, I feel weaker. Not physically, but emotionally. I feel like they both have seen me in my worst moment and I can’t handle it; the last thing I need is Zayn telling everyone at school my faults and Louis just standing back, letting him.

Which I am sure would happen if I allow it. The thing is I don’t know if I would do anything to stop it. Yes, I am flattered that they cared enough to take me out of the freezing outdoors but I am hurt. I am hurt and I do not know why. They were being nice so why should I be worried about any misfortunes?

Before I can finish arguing with myself, there is an urgent knock at the door. I am curious as to who would be knocking on my bedroom door but I quickly knowledge that it is the front door and mentally slap myself. Looking through the peephole, I take in Louis’ appearance; he is wearing yesterday’s clothes but I do not mind.

“Louis, I am extremely busy. Please go away and don’t come back.”

“Harry, please open the door. I need to know you’re okay.”

“Well, congratulations because your conscience is clear; I am fine. Please leave.”

“I’m not leaving until you invite me in.”

I ignore him and walk towards the kitchen, making a cup of tea. I start feeling guilty soon after I am half way done with the drink. I walk back to the door and notice that he is gone. I slowly open the door and realize that he is leaning against it. I attempt to close the door back, but he gets in too hastily.

“Was that so hard?” He teases but he is smiling so I assume he is joking.

“Very.”

He looks me up and down and I am exceedingly self conscious. “Would you like some tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

I rush to the kitchen again and he follows. I make another cup and hand it to him fresh. He smiles and thanks me repeatedly before taking a drink and sighing in content.

“Absolutely amazing.”

“Thank you,” I mutter softly, sipping on mine. “I do not mean to be rude, but why exactly are you here?”

“To check up on you; you left without a single word this morning.”

“I didn’t want to disrupt yours or Zayn’s slumber.”

“There was no slumber to disrupt; we didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I assume I am the reason behind it. I am sorry.”

“No,” He defends. “It wasn’t necessarily you, it was Zayn.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “Zayn? What’s wrong with him?”

“It was about the whole punching incident.”

“Oh.” I stop talking and finish my tea, putting the cup in the sink. I look back over at Louis to find him staring back. He is very attractive and if I actually thought I had a chance with him I would not be scared of these feelings.

“Well, if that’s it, then.” I feel bad for basically kicking him out but I do not know what else to do.

“Do I have to go so soon? Do you have things planned?”

He knows good and well that I don’t have anything planned. “Not really, I guess. This house is boring though so if you ever want to leave, go right ahead.”

He smiles softly. “Alright.”

I walk into the living room and turn on the television, sitting down on the couch and searching for a show to watch. He sits next to me empty handed and I wonder if he put the cup in the sink after I did.

“Where are your parents?”

I look at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

I have learned over time not to make it obvious that they don’t care about me. I am sure that everyone already knows they hate me (they tell me that everyone hates me and they are a part of everyone), but no one really knows the truth.

“Why aren’t they worried that you’re not in school?”

“Who says they know?”

He chuckles. “Ditto; my parents are somewhere in the United States on a business trip.”

“They just leave you home alone?”

“No, they let me stay at Zayn’s house. His mother is very strict on schoolwork and Zayn actually going to school.”

“And yet, both of you are home.”

“Zayn convinced her that he was sick, but if he’s sick then he couldn’t come with me to visit you.”

“This, of course, is absolutely unnecessary.”

“Unless your opinion is invalid and I don’t care what you think about me paying a visit to you.”

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Alright.” I repeat, focusing back at the television. After a few more moments of silence, he picks the conversations back up.

“Harry, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” I don’t look at him; I’m afraid to.

“Why don’t you talk much in school? Or at all?”

I take a deep breath in and exhale. “Why would I?”

“To converse with students?” He looks confused. “Why do you shut yourself out?”

“You think I _wanted_ to shut myself out? It wasn’t a _choice_ , Louis.” I grit my teeth and glare at him, furious at his assumption.

Pity flickers in his eyes beside fear. “I didn’t mean it like that, Harry. Honest.”

I look away. “Could you go?”

He laughs half-heartedly. “Not really.”

“Fine,” I snap. “I will.”

I get up and walk out of the room and toward my bedroom but I hear his footsteps behind me. I make it to my room in time to shut and lock the door before he reaches it. He knocks softly on the wood but I ignore him, going to the window and opening it quietly.

“I will open this door if you don’t.”

“Good luck.” I mumble underneath my breath, climbing out of the window. If my parents couldn’t get it open to get me ready for school, there was no way he was going to care enough to try.

I jump down to the ground instead of climbing down the tree and I realize my first mistake. A white pain shoots up my left leg but I shrug it off. I get to my feet and run in the opposite direction of my house, towards an old coffee shop down the street. I feel myself trip several times but I catch myself in time.

When I reach the small shop, I stop running and walk in. I sit in a booth in the very back, paying no mind to all the curious looks (or at least pretending to). A lady comes by to take my order but I just get another tea and while I patiently wait for her return, I see Louis outside the booth window. I slide down in my seat but I am already noticed. He enters the shop with a loud _ding_ and walks quickly to my booth.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” He asks, sitting across from me. I stay quiet (except to thank the waitress when she returns), awaiting everything he has to say. “Don’t ignore me, Harry.”

I shrug my shoulders shyly, looking at the inside of my mug. I see the furrow that was deep in his face soften from the top of my lids. My anxiety creeps up on me before disappearing and repeating itself.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

He doesn’t mean a lot of things he says. I beg myself to say it but I don’t; he doesn’t deserve the cruel things I want to say to him; he doesn’t deserve any of them.

“Harry, please.” He pleads.

_“Oh, look everyone, the faggots here.” Zayn chuckles to himself as the class erupts in laughter. I am about to turn around and leave but the voice of the teacher stops me._

_“Enough, class. Get in your seats and get out your Social Studies books.”_

_I sit in the back of the classroom, as always, and pull out my book. I turn it to the correct page and start on the assignment but before I can write the first correct answer, my book is torn from my table by a friend of Zayn’s and held sideways in front of me._

_“This yours?” His smirk is hideously evil and I want nothing more than to smack it right off. I don’t say anything, what was the point? He laughs quietly, although the entire class is watching. He grips the book tighter and throws it across the room. “Good luck with your work, faggot.”_

_I skipped the second and last Study Hall of the day and hid in the bathroom, determined to make the pain stop. The tears keep coming out and I feel like my chest is being ripped repeatedly and I wish for nothing more than a friend; someone who will help me in these situations. No one would. Why would they waste their time on me? They have their friends, and family, and lovers to worry about, not the space of an unwanted being._

_Unwanted being._

_As in I was not wanted and I was not human enough to be labeled as such. I was a faggot and stupid and insufficient and apparently being all of these did not classify as me being a human. I was used to it. As much as it hurts to be able to say that, it was true._

_No one wanted me; wants me. I take out my phone and look through different ways of committing suicide, all as scary as the next. I settle on hanging myself and find good ways to tie a rope without it breaking. I get off the floor and walk out of the bathroom._

_This is it. This is the last moments I will spend and unless someone wants me here, nothing is stopping me._

_Before I can walk out of the school, someone pulls me back by my backpack and slams me against the lockers. It is Zayn and his friends are standing behind him (even the boy who just watches). Zayn throws me on the ground and they all start kicking me (aside the boy, obviously)._

_“Just kill yourself.”_

_Kill yourself._

_As in, hanging yourself by the throat and giving everyone the satisfaction they desperately want and need._

_I am, Zayn; just for you, too. Happy Birthday._

_When they finally stop and leave I get up and walk out, taking my time getting home for the last time. I open the door and shut it behind me, climbing up my stairs one at a time. I go immediately to my closet and find an old jump rope from when I was younger (I had planned on throwing it out last May). I tie it securely and wrap it around a hook in my closet. I get a stool and set it underneath the hook, standing on it afterwards. I want to write a suicide note but I really don’t want anyone to publish it in the school paper. I want to thank the boy for not harming me the way everyone else has. I want to do a lot of things that I will never be able to._

_And I wrap the rope around my neck and kick the stool out of the way._

“Harry, let’s go.” Louis’ voice comes in as clear as day and I find myself back in the coffee shop. He has his eyebrows furrowed and his hand outstretched. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.” I lie, but I am not sure if I am lying. I take his hand and he leads me out of the coffee shop and back home. I limp carefully and it goes unnoticed. He lets me go by myself when we reach my door and I am thankful for alone time. He promises to come by when Zayn’s faux illness blows by and I close the door after telling him it was alright.

_“Nurse, get the doctor in here this moment!” Someone screams loudly and I want to tell them to stop because my head is aching but they don’t. “Something happened! The boy is waking up! Tell his parents this instant!”_

_Some doors open but I keep my eyes closed, listening closely but not enough to stop my headache from beating piercingly. Things poke at my arms but I do not tell them to stop, as they are giving me bliss beneath my skin. I want to open my eyes now but I am scared of what I will see._

_“Mr. and Mrs. Styles, your boy is back!”_

_“Back?” I can hear the disgust hidden behind pleasure in my father’s voice. “What do you mean he’s back?”_

_“We don’t know, sir, but his heartbeat started again and he’s breathing. He was dead for over eight minutes. We think it’s a miracle.”_

_Someone puts a wet wash cloth on my forehead and I want to grab their hand a kiss it a million times, feeling my headache fade slowly._

_“He’s alive.”_

“I shouldn’t be.” I mumble, sitting on the edge of my bed. “God shouldn’t have wasted a miracle on me; someone out there is dying and they would have changed the world and here I am trying to make myself dead again.”

I open my left drawer and pull out one of my long blades, twirling it around in my fingers. It starts to get wet and I realize that it is from my tears and I quickly wipe them away.

_“Weak.”_

_“Faggot.”_

_“Stupid.”_

_“Kill yourself.”_

_I’m trying._

_“Insufficient.”_

_“Useless.”_

_“Worthless.”_

_I’m sorry._

_“Fat.”_

_“Disgusting.”_

_“Gay.”_

_I don’t mean to be._

_“If I were you, I would have killed myself a long time ago.”_

Better late than never.


	4. 04 || Group Therapy ||

 

 

_“Maybe they’re angels that want to go home.” –m.l.b._

 

 

 

 **Chapter 04 ||** _Group Therapy_ **||**

 

 

 

I expect to wake up in a hospital room, or a morgue, but I don’t. I don’t exactly wake up either, though. I can hear Louis’ worried voice telling Zayn to call nine one one but that’s all I can focus on; I don’t hear if Zayn called them or not; I don’t hear multiple men come in; all I hear is Louis’ voice telling me to _hang on, damn it_.

 

If I were to be ever scared of waking up in a hospital room again, it would be now because I know that Louis is going to be there with his comments regarding how stupid he was to leave me alone and how he couldn’t be there to save me. But even now in this dark room, I am listening to the sound of Louis’ soft snores and I feel anxiety creeping up on me and disappearing as if it was never there.

 

Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like if the first time had been a success; if I had never really met Louis; if Zayn had never gotten the chance to try to make up what he had done. I know things would be different with my parents; I’m sure they would be selling my bedroom things instead of planning an empty funeral. I wonder if things would have really made a difference had I decided to hang myself when no one was home.

 

I feel a sense of stupidity for myself because I knew Louis was coming back and yet I attempted to commit again. How idiotic and selfish could you be to do things like that to people who cared, or pretended, or whatever the heck they were doing because even I’m not sure anymore.

 

The clock reads two in the morning, and I know that in a matter of hours Louis is going to wake up with jumbled thoughts and remarks. I don’t know if they will be good thoughts, that he’s glad I’m back, or rude remarks. How could I do this to him? Do I realize what I’ve done? Anxiety has crept further up my body until I hear an annoying beeping that I realize now was my heart. A nurse comes in quickly with a pill and requests I take it, but I don’t want to sleep; I want to stare at Louis for a bit longer before he decides that I’m a lost cause and leaves me.

 

“Darling, you need to take your pill. It’ll help with the anxiety and I’m sure you don’t want to be awake at two in the morning.” The nurse is sweet and I feel awful for ignoring her, for sliding down lower in my bed to roll away from her. She sighs sadly, “I know you’re going through a tough time and I know my opinion on you doesn’t really count, but I know you’ve got a big heart and big dreams and I know that one day you’ll realize all that you have and all that you could lose in a matter of days. Don’t think too much on the things that dwell negatively in your life, but things like those young men over there that saved your life. You’ve got to think of the outcome in things before you push too hard.” I hear her set my pill and the glass of water on the table beside me. “Goodnight, Harry.” And she leaves.

 

                         

 

Maybe it was when Louis’ snores stopped that made me wake up because when I opened my eyes, he was starting to sit up. I close my eyes quickly and breathe slowly, as if I were still asleep. He walks over to me and plops down on the chair beside the bed, sighing in distress.

 

“You’re a dick, you know that, Harry?” He says and I try to stop the tears from leaking through my eyelids. “Why — you — what the hell were you thinking? Thinking you could just leave me like that, you prick. Do you know how I felt when I couldn’t open the door to your bedroom? Terrified, Harry, I was terrified and now I know that it was justified.” He sighs again and I can feel him leaning closer. “You’re so oblivious, Harry. How could you think that we wouldn’t be upset or that we wouldn’t try to save you? Do you think that low of us? Did you —” he’s rambling now. “— really think that I would _mind_ you dying? Did you really think I wouldn’t miss you? Answer me!” He shouts as loud as he could and I jump up. I’m leaning as close to the metal bars behind me as I can with wide eyes. Louis looks mad and I can see tears falling down his cheeks. “Answer me!” He shouts again. “Did you really think I didn’t care about you? What did I do wrong? Harry…Harry.” He leans forward and wraps his arms around my neck, pulling himself as close to me as he could. He’s sobbing now. “Don’t ever do that again, okay? Please…”

 

Zayn is awake now and I see him walking fast to us. When he reaches the end of the bed, he puts his hand on Louis’ back. “Come on, Lou. Don’t scare him.”

 

“Please don’t ever hurt me again.” Louis whispers in my ear before he sits up and wipes his nose on his sleeve.

 

“How are you feeling, mate?” Zayn asks me quietly. I don’t comment on how dumb the question is in this situation, instead shrugging.

 

“Don’t lie.” Louis whispers, wiping his nose again.

 

Zayn looks at Louis for a second before rubbing his shoulder gently. “The doctor says you can leave once you fill out some papers. He says we have to watch you though, for, you know, suicide watch.”

 

 _Have. We have to._ It’s not because they want to or because they care about how I feel or how I am, but because if they didn’t, someone else would have to and they don’t want that on their image. I nod again and swallow the lump in my throat.

 

“And you can bet your ass I’m not taking my eyes off of you,” Louis says, looking at me straight in the eyes. I gulp and nod.

 

“Well,” Zayn sighs awkwardly. “I’ll just go and get the doctor then, get your papers.” He walks out and closes the door gently behind him. I look over at Louis and find him still staring back, deep in thought. After a few seconds, he huffs a breath and shifts to lie next to me.

 

“You’re a jerk sometimes, Harry.” Louis mumbles. “You know that?”

 

“I’m aware,” I whisper, halfheartedly.

 

“But even though you keep doing stupid things like this to make you a jerk, you’re still a good person.” He adds.

 

I try to think of something to say but the silence is welcoming. Zayn returns about half a minute later with the release papers and a nurse tailgating him.

 

“Mr. Styles, you understand why you’re here, right?” I nod. “And you understand that this will go on your file right next to your other one, correct?” Nod. “After your first attempt, your mother promised that you were fine and that we wouldn’t be seeing you again. We took her word over any others but now, after a second try, you will be closely monitored. We’d like to request a therapy session with one of our groups. They talk about suicide, depression, anxiety, and just about everything under the water. We know we can’t force you into anything but the next group session will be held this Saturday. The other thing is medicine; we’d like you to take some anti-depressants. I know you’re not too keen on the idea but it will help you get better.”

 

“He will,” Louis chimes in. “and he will be there at the group session, as well.”

 

The nurse smiles and writes something down while I look over at Louis with a confused expression. “ _You’re going,_ ” He mouths firmly.

 

“Here is the card,” She hands a small business card to Zayn. “It’ll tell you where you’ll find it and who’s instructing it. He’s a very nice man and I think you’ll be pleased. Now onto the papers.”

 

I had forgotten about the small pile of papers Zayn was still holding. He hands them to me and she directs where I need to sign and initial. When I’m finished, she takes the pen and the pile and sets it on the table. She releases me from the wire hold and walks to the door before turning around.

 

“I will send the prescription to your nearest pharmacy. I really hope you go to the group session because I think it will benefit you more than you want to believe. You all have a nice night.”

 

She closes the door softly behind her and I finally get up off of the uncomfortable bed. I change into my normal clothes and we all leave the hospital silently. Zayn drives us to Louis’ house, which apparently I’m supposed to stay for a while until I get off of the suicide watch. Knowing Louis, I know he’d try to keep me cooped in there as long as he could, but I’m not sure why.

 

He makes us both a cup of tea and we sit in uncomfortable silence for a while until he clears his throat. He has already finished his tea minutes ago while I’m only halfway through mine.

 

“I really think you going to group therapy will help you, Harry, like the nurse said.”

 

I shake my head and hum, mouth full of tea. I swallow and set the cup on the table. “No, she’s supposed to say things like that; it’s her job.”

 

“Not everyone is supposed to say things; that’s not how life is.”

 

“It seems like it, to be honest.”

 

“That’s just because you haven’t met many people who don’t do that. Zayn and I certainly aren’t supposed to say things; we say them because we mean them.”

 

“Yeah, because Zayn is the best example you could use, right?”

 

I see him visibly cringe. “He’s really trying, you know.”

 

“It still doesn’t take back what he said.”

 

“He was never thinking clearly when he got into that kind of stuff, Harry.”

 

“Yeah, well, it still hurts the same.”

 

“I’m not saying it doesn’t and I’m definitely not taking his side in bullying you —”

 

“Really, because it awfully feels like it.”

 

“Harry —”

 

“No, you know what, it’s fine.” I stand up, not liking the familiar hallow bubble growing in my chest. “I’m fine. I shouldn’t have tried to kill myself when I knew you were coming. I get it if you’re trying to punish me or something but I’m done, okay? I’m leaving.”

 

Louis grabs my upper arm as I start rushing to the door and turns me around. “You’re not walking out on me again. You’re under suicide watch and I need to make sure you’re okay.”

 

“Don’t you get it?” I raise my voice. “No stupid group therapy session or some stupid depressants are going to fix anything. No suicide watch is going to make me better, Louis, don’t you get it? _I’m never going to be okay._ I never have and I never will and the faster you realize that, the faster you’ll realize I’m not worth it and you’ll put your pity on someone who actually wants it. You don’t care about me at all; you say those things so I’ll have a good image on you. You’re trying to make up for the bullying you missed, but I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anyone; I don’t need my parents, I don’t need Zayn, and I certainly don’t need you trying to fix me, Louis! Don’t you get it already? I can’t be fixed!”

 

Water rushes to Louis’ eyes as his grip on me loosens. I walk out of the door, slamming the door in the process, and fall to my knees on the concrete. I regain myself quickly and walk away from his house. I go to a small area where my family used to go to for family gatherings. It has a lot of trees and beautiful flowers in the spring. I sit right in the center of the trees and cry until I fall asleep.

 

 

 

**_L_ **

 

 

 

“Zayn, he’s gone!” I choke out. My heart aches and I feel terrible for not running after him but I can barely move.

 

“What did he do?” His tone is threatening and it just brings back what happened. I cry into the phone until Zayn says he’s coming over.

 

When he finally comes inside, I’m lying on the ground holding my legs close to my chest. He mutters a “shit” before walking over and wrapping his arms around me, tightly pulling me to his chest. I feel like I’ve been crying for years when I eventually stop but Zayn keeps his arms around me.

 

“He — Harry — he just —” My words come out incoherent as I try to catch my breath.

 

“Just breathe, Lou. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

 

“He’s not.” I choke out. “He’s not okay, Zayn. He’ll never be okay. We can’t help him. He won’t let me help him. If I can’t help him —”

 

“I know, Lou. Just give him a bit, okay? He’s had to get with the idea of going to group therapy and taking depressants, which by the way I brought here in case he comes back.”

 

Panic strikes through me. “Zayn, Zayn,” I grip his arms. “What if he tries again because I provoked him?”

 

“You didn’t provoke him. He’s going through things right now and he wants to be alone. If he doesn’t come back tomorrow then we will go after him and if he kills himself tonight then you can blame it on me.”

 

“That’s not the point!” I scream and fight to get up but he holds me down. He rolls us over so he’s lying on top of me, holding my wrists down and lying on my chest. He’s suffocating me and I know he’s just trying to get me to focus on my breathing but it is entirely different now.

 

Harry could be in a pile of his blood somewhere or hanging from a tree, dead. I scream and writhe from underneath Zayn’s weight, doing everything in my will to get up and run after Harry, despite the things he has said. The image of Harry swaying from a tree is what starts the tears and Zayn releases some of the weight off of me. I scream louder when I realize that I could have saved him if I followed him.

 

“Louis, you need to be careful. You’re hyperventilating.” Zayn saying it out loud doesn’t help at all. I keep trying to catch my breath and stop crying but I can’t and I feel myself fall into a pit of darkness that consumes me.

 

 

 

**_H_ **

 

 

 

The sky is completely black when I wake up. I’m sure it was a twig snapping that interrupted my sleep because the footsteps keep coming closer. I couldn’t move due to the numbness surrounding my body. A flashlight shines on my legs and creeps up my torso until the person can see my face. I realize that it’s an officer calling for backup, that they found me.

 

Another police officer picks me up bridal style and I snuggle as close as I can in search for warmth. Someone wraps a blanket around me and I realize I’m shivering terribly.

 

They bring me to an ambulance, checking for any signs of distress. Besides the fact that I was so close to catching hypothermia, I am fine. They keep me in the back of the van, waiting for Zayn to show up.

 

When his car pulls up, they take my blanket and Zayn replaces it with the one he brought. It is much softer and warmer than the officers’. He leads me to the backseat and I lie down. The heater is on full blast and I feel it against my face. He slides in the front seat after thanking the officers while I’m waiting for his outburst.

 

“I wasn’t going to call,” he simply states. “but Louis insisted, sort of.”

 

“If he insisted then why are you here?”

 

He takes a deep sigh, turning a corner. “Because Louis is out of his mind, literally.”

 

I sit up. “What happened?”

 

“Lay back down.” He says sternly. My heart jumps as I lay my head back down on the seat. “Louis had a panic attack and went unconscious freaking out about you. If you had not have ran, this wouldn’t have happened.”

 

He has a right to blame me for Louis’ panic attack. He has a right to blame me for everything that has caused Louis grief. I deserve his hate comments and rude remarks. I deserve this.

 

I get out of the car when we reach Louis’ house while Zayn opens the front door. He walks back to his car without a goodbye and drives off. I am still in his blanket as I close and lock the front door behind me.

 

I relive the moment where I told Louis off and my heart falls into my stomach. He didn’t deserve the things I said; he is perfect and so good, so pure. I follow the hallway down to his bedroom and I slowly creep open the door.

 

A ball of blankets fills the entire bed. I look around until I see feathery hair popping out of the side. I walk forward and pull the blanket below his face to see his tearstained cheeks. I softly wipe the residue away until his eyes flutter open.

 

“Harry.” His voice is awfully hoarse. He pulls his arm from underneath the covers and grips my finger. “Please don’t leave. I’m sorry.”

 

“No, no, Lou, don’t apolo —”

 

“I’m sorry. Please lay with me.” He whimpers. I lift the blankets and roll beside him, piling the comfort on top. He snuggles close to my chest and lets out a deep sigh, a comfortable sigh.

 

I run my fingers through his hair a few times before resting it on the curve of his stomach. He softly snores a few minutes later and I let myself fall into the moment until it will be taken away. I brush my nose against his hair, smiling at how soft and small he is.

 

And yeah, maybe I’m whipped.

 

                               

 

Today is Saturday; today is the group therapy session I had been dreading. When I had woken up, I had forgotten about it because I was still staring at sleep beauty, but when he finally woke up and we calmed things down he asked me if I was going to attend it. I couldn’t say no, not when I caused him so much pain yesterday.

 

That’s how I found myself outside of a huge building, windows and walls made of pure glass. I was curious as to why they had it like that; wouldn’t it be easier for someone to jump out?

 

Louis had packed me a little bag filled with snacks and drinks in case my mind started to wander. He took my cell phone but he promised to be here as soon as the session ended.

 

I walk in with my head low and sit as close to the door as possible. I look to my right and see a girl fidgeting with her fingers and her scars on full show; they cover both arms completely. She has light brown hair and a little less than average weight, but I’m not one to judge. She’s wearing sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. The boy to my left is sitting there emotionless, staring at the ground. He’s wearing jeans and a jacket, arms crossed to his chest.

 

When the instructor comes in — the card says his name is Doctor Payne — everyone stands up slowly and welcomes him. I stay seated as I watch him sit down across from me. His hair is pushed up and his eyes are the sweetest brown I’ve ever encountered.

 

“Friends, let’s welcome a new mate, Harry Styles.” He points across the room and everyone mumbles a hello. “Harry’s never been to a support group before, but I know that you all will make him feel welcome. Is there anything you’d like to say about yourself, Harry?”

 

I swallow the lump already forming in my throat. My mouth is dry, too dry. “Like what?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he leans forward and clasps his hands together. “anything, really. If you’d like to share why you’re here, go for it. If you’d like to wait, that’s fine, too. We’ve had a lot of people that had trouble opening up and we all understand.”

 

I look around the room, trying to find a familiar face but to no avail. “I tried committing suicide,” I state quietly. “twice.” I don’t note the actual second time when I decided not to take the sleeping pills in case he looked at my folder.

 

Doctor Payne nods his head. “Any particular reason why?”

 

I shrug. “Things are just bad, I guess. Nothing different.”

 

“That’s what I say,” a boy two seats from me says. “There’s not really a reason why you do the things you do, there are several.”

 

Doctor Payne nods his head again in agreement. “And there are things we can’t really control in life, like if a friend decides to leave or if your parents get divorced. We can’t control many things in our lives but it’s how we cope with them that gets us through. Some of you self harm, others —” he gestures his arm out to me. “— want to end it like that.” He snaps his fingers. “We all have different ways of coping but you’ve got to trust me that it will get better.”

 

“That’s what they say in movies and books.” a girl comments. “It doesn’t really happen. It’s just fiction.”

 

“What makes you say that, Amber?”

 

She shifts uncomfortably at the mention of her name. “Well, I mean, people do kill themselves, that’s an actual problem. Don’t you think that if it actually got better, these people, these normal people, wouldn’t attempt or achieve to end their lives?”

 

“Most people don’t realize their worth, and when they do it’s too late.”

 

“A lot of kids at school tell me I’m worthless.” a girl speaks up. “How am I supposed to realize my worth if others don’t?”

 

“Similar to the saying, “you can’t truly love someone until you love yourself”, “others can’t realize your worth for you.” You cannot go out and let people walk all over you. It is not their right and it is certainly not fair to you.”

 

“Doctor Payne, Sir,” I mumble, slowly raising my hand.

 

He smiles brightly. “Yes, Harry, go ahead.”

 

“That saying about love, I don’t think it’s true. Because there’s this —” Guy. “— friend I like, and I love them more than I love myself.”

 

Doctor Payne leans in, tilting his head to the side at my choice of words. “We won’t judge you, Harry. Is this friend of yours a male?”

 

I look around the room and gulp, though I can’t find any judging faces. “Yeah.”

 

Doctor Payne smiles. “Now, tell us about him.”

 

“He’s not necessarily my boyfriend, I guess. We don’t do boyfriend things, but I was lying with him the other night while he was asleep in my arms and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much he deserves better. I’m so in love with him and I don’t know why. We wouldn’t even have talked had I not tried to commit suicide the first time.”

 

“Everything happens for a reason, Harry. Maybe you needed to face an obstacle to meet him, to be with him.”

 

“I don’t even think he likes me like that. I understand that he cares about me _a lot_ , but sometimes I feel like I’m pushing him down.”

 

“Maybe you’re mind is pushing yourself down and your thoughts are so deeply triggered that they’ve got you to believe you’re the problem. There’s nothing wrong with someone caring about you and I think that’s where you’re so stuck with being happy; you believe that someone caring about you is selfish and wrong. It’s not, Harry, or to any of you. Most of you in here believe that you’re not worth anyone’s care or love _but you’re entirely wrong_. You each deserve someone to care for you.” When he’s done looking around the room, he looks back at me. “Liking another guy, or a girl for that matter, is difficult; especially when it’s more likely they’re straight. You have to keep trying, though, don’t give up.”

 

“I feel like I push people down, or push them away.” the girl next to me says. “I can’t help it. Anyone who asks what’s wrong is just merely curious. I can see why Harry is so hesitant on his friend.”

 

“I’m not necessarily curious just…” I fade out, trying to think of the right word.

 

“You’re just what?” Doctor Payne asks gently.

 

“Afraid? I guess. I’m just worried that one day he’s going to realize that I’m not worth it, that he can find someone better. I try to savor every moment because he can take it away so quickly.”

 

“We’re back to worthiness, did you realize that?” he comments. “Every single one of you is worried that someone you love will leave you because you’re not worth it. Sometimes feeling worthless is easier than thinking of how much you mean to someone. You don’t want to sound conceded or be an attention seeker, right?” Some kids nod their heads slowly. “Like the saying about love, you can’t love anyone until you love yourself. You can adore them or they can attract you, but if you don’t truly love yourself who’s to say any of you know what true love is? Or any love, as well?”

 

We all sit quiet for a while, taking in his words to heart and he lets us. After a few minutes though, he brings his attention on the time. We have about fifteen minutes left and I realize I haven’t touched my bag. I reach into it and drink some of my water bottle while Doctor Payne talks to us in a finishing focus.

 

“I know that a lot of you keep in your feelings, and I’m going to assume for a minute that you do, too, Harry.” I nod my head gently when he looks at me with sincere eyes. “That’s a fixable problem, really. You guys have depression, anxiety, self harming issues, and everything that anyone could possibly think of. Those are your critical problems that take more time to heal, whereas hiding your feelings is an easier step forward. You guys think that hiding away in your shell will make things better because you don’t want anyone to worry about you. That’s most of America’s problem, really, but it doesn’t solve anything. You’re going to complain, you’re going to whine, and you’re certainly going to feel something from time to time. The only way to let you out of the shell is to become yourself. You are hidden, and secluded, and a completely different person; you must show your feelings to people who you know generally care.”

 

“What if we don’t think anyone cares?” the boy next to me asks.

 

Doctor Payne turns his head to the side swiftly. “I care.”

 

It’s silent again so the boy just nods. The conversation carries out until he lets us go and I walk down the hallway to the front entrance in search of Louis.

 

He’s sitting in the driver’s seat nodding his head slowly and affectionately to whatever is playing in his car. I admire him for a few more seconds before walking further to his car and climbing in beside him. He smiles fondly and turns down the music, which was playing some low beat track of Landon Pigg I’ve heard him playing a few times before.

 

“Hello, lovely. How are you feeling?” He shifts the car to Drive and starts off after looking around.

 

“A bit tired to be honest.” I admit.

 

He nods his head understandably. “How was it?”

 

I think about it for a minute. “Interesting.”

 

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t intimidating. Does this mean you’re going next week?” He chuckles softly at himself. “Sorry, I’m pushing it. I’m just glad you’re not upset; I was afraid you would walk out of here angry or something at what Doctor Payne said.”

 

“He’s actually a lovely man. I was scared that he was going to be some posh therapist and demand that he’s right but he speaks the truth, in a good way obviously.”

 

Louis smiles gently. “Well, I’m glad that you like him.”

 

He drops us off at his house and we walk inside to get out of the cool air. Winter is catching up and it’s hard to believe that the year is almost halfway over. When Louis closes the door behind himself, he goes into the kitchen to make some fresh tea. We drink it hastily in any attempt to get warmer.

 

It’s only half past one and we are already completely bored. I am extremely tired from getting up early to get ready and from trying to calm my nerves the entire time. While we are watching something on TV, my eyes droop slowly and I hope it goes unnoticed by Louis. I know it doesn’t when he turns off whatever was playing and helps me to his bedroom to cover me to complete bliss. He turns off the little lamp beside his bed and climbs in beside me, snuggling to my side.

 

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?” I mumble tiredly. I don’t want to push him into something he’s uncomfortable with just to please me.

 

“I wouldn’t be doing it if I wasn’t, idiot.” He chuckles and I can feel him smiling on my shoulder. I smile softly and kiss his forehead.

 

“I hope that’s okay.”

 

“Perfectly.”


	5. 05 || Broken Promises ||

   

_“Home, let me come home, home is wherever with you.”_

 

**Chapter Five | |** _Broken Promises_ **| |**

When I woke up that morning, Louis was still asleep on me. It took him several minutes to come around but I didn’t mind watching him. After he had finally gotten us up, we watched a few movies in his living room, including _The Breakfast Club_. I also didn’t mind watching him laughing or crying appropriately because just seeing his face light up in emotion was enough to get me through today. The day came to an end when his parent’s returned from their business trip and Louis didn’t want it to seem suspicious.

“We’ll hang out after school, okay, Harry?” He smiles gently, nudging my cheek with his nose.

“I’ll meet you around your car.” I smile, kissing his temple softly.

“Deal. Text me during school tomorrow.”

I giggle and mumble an okay before leaving.

  

_L_

    

“New friend?”

I close the door after Harry’s body disappears and turn to face my mother. “Yeah, we’re pretty close, I guess.”

“What about Zayn?” She asks, concern written everywhere.

“We’re still friends, mom.” I chuckle at her insanity. “Harry’s just someone we added into our friendship.”

“Then where is Zayn?” She presses.

“Oh, leave him alone, Lucy.” My dad jokes. “It’s almost like you’re more attracted to Zayn than you are me.”

“Well,” she chuckles. “Have you _seen_ him?”

I groan. “Oh, mom, please don’t.”

“Aside from that comment, your mother and I would like to take you out for dinner in a home sweet home kind of way.”

“If you weren’t my parents, I’d assume you were conceded.” I smile. “But since you _are_ my parents, I know that you actually are.”

My dad punches my shoulder lightly and I grab my shoes on the way to the door. We end up driving to some fancy restaurant that I used to come to when I was little; one of those sentimental places, I guess.

The conversation was light throughout most of the dinner, until my mother brings up something that happened while they were out that made me stop my fork mid-bite.

“Darling, do you remember that waiter we had when _we_ were out to dinner?” My mother questions. “You know the…odd one?”

“Are you talking about the one that messed up our orders multiple times?”

“Yes,” Suddenly, her eyes narrow. “I am. I had someone go through a background check for him – using the excuse that I wasn’t comfortable, blah, blah – and I found out that he had a _boyfriend_.”

Insert the mid-bite here.

“Honestly? How low can someone get?” My father has mustered up just as much disgust on his face as my mother. They just keep _eating_ , like _nothing’s wrong_.

I put the fork on my plate slowly and calm myself down before replying with, “What’s so wrong about his lifestyle choice? It’s not like you have to deal with it personally.”

They both turn to look at me with confusion on their faces. My father swallows his food and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Louis, it’s wrong what they do. They are choosing to be with their own sex. Do you not see how wrong that is? Why, if you were gay, I wouldn’t know what I would do.”

“We’d probably chuck you out, to be honest,” my mother chuckles. “but it’s a good thing you’re not gay, hmm.”

They just keep eating and eating until their plates are done and I haven’t said a word and as I stare at my ceiling at two o’clock in the morning I keep repeating _gaygaygay_ like it has some untold meaning that makes it so horrible, so horrifying that my own parents wouldn’t love their own son had it been bestowed upon him.

Then I start to think about Harry: do his parents accept him? Is that where all those beatings had come from? Did his own parents _beat_ him for being who he is?

My eyes hurt and my chest hurts and my heart feels like it’s tearing in two because through the whole time Zayn has abused Harry, he was getting abused by his parents for the same reason. And Harry had tried to kill himself because it became too much for him and no one helped him because no one stood up against Zayn. And Harry _still_ wasn’t happy with whom he was but he keeps trying and trying because he hopes one day, someone will accept him and love him.

And I cry the hardest that night because I can finally understand the pain Harry has.

    

_H_

    

I didn’t expect the day to go by so quickly, but I was ecstatic when the final bell rang. No one had bothered me today, not even Zayn (even if we were sort of okay) (okay we weren’t okay but he still didn’t bother me). I was walking toward the area where Louis always parks his car, the biggest smile on my face. I turn the corner and—

Tell me this is a joke.

Tell me Harmony Amber-Lee Faydon is not laughing with _my_ Louis.

He’s got this look on his face, this fond look.

I can’t look anymore.

I turn back around the corner before either of them see me and walk out of a different door. I keep replaying the scene in my head and if Louis had just leaned in a little closer—

I am going to go home and play some sad songs really loud to put this pain in my heart on hold. I don’t acknowledge my parents, I don’t come down for dinner, and I most certainly do not wait for Louis to call that night, even though he doesn’t.

        

It has literally been only four days since I turned the corner to see Louis with his new girlfriend and I haven’t spoken to him at all. It’s not like he’s made any effort to talk to me anymore either, but I can’t help but feel like I said something, or pressured him even, to make him ignore me like this.

I keep thinking how stupid I was to even consider that he would be accepting of what we had; he probably told Zayn everything for a laugh and the reason he hasn’t bothered me is so he can when I’m at my weakest.

It’s working.

It’s Friday night and I am just so _sad_. I am sad because no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough, and God, if I didn’t want to slit my throat right now.

I am sure Louis is out with his _girlfriend_ right about now, partying and kissing.

And I am just so sad.

I’ve been locked up in my room since school ended, and neither of my parents have been concerned that I haven’t left to eat dinner, but they never have so I don’t know why I’m questioning it now.

But I am just so sad and I keep reading sad quotes online in hopes that I can find someone who feels just as bad as me so I know I’m not alone but I can’t find one to ease even a little of the pain.

_“I wonder if anything will make me feel again because right now, the only thing I can feel is so tired.”_

I keep waiting for Louis to call because that’s all I want right now but the longer I stare at my phone the stupider I feel.

God, I feel so _stupid_.

_Stupid_.

I cannot even express it; it’s just a repetition of _stupidstupidstupidstupid_.

_“I knew I had to give back to you somehow and that I love you wasn’t good enough anymore, so I went out of my way to make you as happy as can be, I threw out the one thing that made you sad, myself.”_

I am literally so deep in my breaking point that I don’t care if I never eat another meal or if I ever love someone the way I loved Louis.

I loved Louis.

I keep listening to sad music and picturing Louis right now and maybe temping to go drown myself in vodka and water because I don’t care but I care too much and I am just so sad.

_“There are two types of sadness_

_There’s that kind that I want to get rid of so I watch friends listen to happy music find someone to talk to_

_Then there’s the other one when you know you’re sad but you want to isolate yourself and just drown in the pool of emotions listen to sad music read quotes about life drink tea and basically just feel empty.”_

I feel so so _so_ empty.

                  

_L_

    

I am lying in bed on a Friday night trying to decide if I should call Harry or ignore the feelings I have like I have been the past week.

It’s been horrible, really, ignoring him like this. I see him in the hallways and he looks utterly exhausted. He avoids most of his classes now, but I don’t blame him; I’m sure he can’t stand to look at me right now.

_I_ can’t stand to look at me right now.

It’s half past two in the morning when I finally reach for my phone and dial the familiar number I called for days in a row. It rings a couple of times before I am shunned to the lady of the voicemail, telling me that the caller is unavailable and to leave a message if I’d like.

I don’t.

    

_H_

    

The next morning I am still awake from last night when it occurs to me that it’s Saturday, and Saturday means Group Therapy. I really don’t want to go because then that means facing my problems and having to deal with Doctor Payne sympathize me, but there was once a time when I wanted to get better (for Louis), and I know that if I screw this up, I might as well end up back in the hospital.

Which, honestly, didn’t sound too bad.

Nonetheless, I got up and showered, brushed my teeth, etcetera etcetera, and as soon as two o’clock rolled around, I am already sitting in my seat next to the same people as last time. One girl out of the twelve teenagers, and I think it is Amber – is that her name? – is absent.

Doctor Payne walks in a few minutes late with multiple apologizes while we accept them and assure him that he’s fine. When he’s caught his breath, he looks around at us and smiles. “I’m glad everyone came back today. We’re missing Amber though, I hope she’s alright. I’ll pray for her tonight.” He puts his papers on the floor and clasps his hands together. “Anyone up for sharing their week?” He looks around until the boy next to me starts speaking.

“My mom came back into my life Tuesday.” He avoids eye contact, obviously uncomfortable.

“And how does that make you feel?” Doctor Payne is trying to read him but he doesn’t understand that not everyone is an open book.

“She hasn’t been in my life from birth since she left a few weeks after, so I’m not sure. I’m glad she’s here, but I feel like it’s some sort of joke.”

“Why do you think that?”

“She never wanted me then, why would she want me now? Why do _I_ need her now?”

_“I don’t need anyone; I don’t need my parents, I don’t need Zayn, and I certainly don’t need you trying to fix me, Louis!”_

“You don’t.” I say out loud. Everyone looks at me now. “Don’t let her fool you; you’ve done well enough now, you don’t need her. She’s made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t need you.”

“Harry.” Doctor Payne warns. “Think more positively.”

“I am.” I admit. “It doesn’t matter that she’s here now; she probably never cared for him in the first place.”

“Harry—”

“No, you know what? None of you actually care, why am I even here? I could be dead tomorrow and all any of you would say is ‘oh, I knew him in my group therapy, kid was gay, too.’ No, I’m done. None of you know me, okay. I’m leaving.”

I stand up as Doctor Payne questions, “Where’s your friend?”

My eyes burn and I kick my chair as hard as I can, letting it slam across the wall on the opposite side. I storm out of there, wiping the tears from my eyes. I head toward a vacant lot and scream as loud as I can, crying hard and heavy. I fall to my knees and roll on my side, covering my face and screaming until my lungs burn, and even then I don’t stop.

_“Harry.” His voice is awfully hoarse. He pulls his arm from underneath the covers and grips my finger. “Please don’t leave. I’m sorry.”_

_“No, no, Lou, don’t apolo —”_

_“I’m sorry. Please lay with me.” He whimpers. I lift the blankets and roll beside him, piling the comfort on top. He snuggles close to my chest and lets out a deep sigh, a comfortable sigh._

I keep crying and I keep hoping that it’ll eventually stop but it never seems to.

_I run my fingers through his hair a few times before resting it on the curve of his stomach. He softly snores a few minutes later and I let myself fall into the moment until it will be taken away. I brush my nose against his hair, smiling at how soft and small he is._

Until it will be taken away.

It was never there in the first place.

Louis never loved me.

But boy, do I love him with every ounce I have left.


	6. 06 || Abandonment ||

  

_“So what happens when the heart gives up, but the body goes on living?”_

  

**Chapter 06 | |** _Abandonment_ **| |**

 

_H_

 

Monday, at around five o’clock, my mother walks into my room with a letter in her hands. I worry that it’s from Louis, or even Zayn, explaining the situation and now she knew everything (there was a tear on the side indicating someone had already opened it). She walks over and sits on my bed where I am lying and have been all day. She has this disappointed look on her face as she puts the letter in front of me.

“What is this?” She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows at me.

I look at the letter that reads _The Winsford Academy_ right in my face. I gulp slowly and look back at her. She rolls her eyes and takes the envelope out of my hands, opening it herself to read out loud. “ _Absence Notification. Dear Parent slash Guardian of Harry Styles: We know that sometimes students cannot attend class. We also know that when students miss class, it’s harder to learn. Our policy allows only ten absences per class each semester._

“ _As of 12-15-2014 Harry, grade 11, has missed class the equivalent of ten or more days. Harry has missed the following number of classes: 20._ ”

“Mom, I understand, but I can’t necessarily go back and redo the classes I’ve missed; I’ll get my work turned in as soon as I can.”

“You didn’t even go to school _today_ , Harry. I would like to know exactly why you have been ditching school. Do you know how bad this makes your father and I look?”

“I’m sorry. I was just feeling under the weather.”

“Under the weather?” She mocks. “Is this just another way of saying you’re going to try to kill yourself again? Honestly, we don’t need the headache. If you were going to kill yourself, you would’ve done it by now and just illustrating this illusion that you are actually trying is getting boring and our friends in the city think it is absolutely ridiculous.”

“It means I am feeling under the weather. I’ll go tomorrow, alright? I just want to lie back down and go to sleep for a few more hours.”

“You bet you’re going to school tomorrow because if I find out you didn’t, your father and I are going to beat you.”

“Understood.”

She glares at me for a few more seconds to make sure that I know how serious she is before getting up and walking out.

For the first time in a few days, I turn my phone on. After the first night I realized Louis wasn’t going to call, I shut it off in anger and desperation. When it buzzed to life, my notifications immediately showed my missed log. Not much to it, except a familiar call.

He tried calling me at two in the morning one night. He was probably drunk off his mind and thought he could just fix this, but with my heart beating in my throat, I delete the log and close out of it. In my messages, it shows I have four: three from Zayn and one from Louis.

_“Why haven’t I seen you at school?”_

_“You better not be dead, Styles.”_

_“Louis is hanging out with some girl and I am completely out of the loop. What’s going on?”_

_“Please make sure you go to your Saturday Group Therapy session. You know when it starts. I miss you.”_

Tears blur my vision and all I can think is _how dare you? You’re the one who left me_ while deleting his message and responding to Zayn’s with _I’m fine._ , ignoring the buzz after that’s probably him replying.

I turn my phone off again and lie back down, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the pain in my chest every time my heart beats. I lay for hours before I notice the sun going down and I wish it would take me with it. Wherever is better than being here and feeling how I do.

Around midnight I feel as though I’ve cried all the tears I have and finally sit up. I wipe my eyes hastily, and stand to walk to my window. Everything comes crashing down again, with Louis, with Zayn, with what my mom said. It was a stupid and foolish thing to do, but she doesn’t understand that I didn’t _want_ to come back, that this wasn’t for attention. I was so close to freedom, I could _taste_ it. I could taste Heaven or Hell or wherever I was going and it tasted like mint chocolate and strawberries and I know that there was a hint of Heaven in it because He knows I love mint chocolate and strawberries. The tears start again and I look up at my ceiling for a second time and I wonder if He is staring down at me with a sad smile or an evil smirk and I don’t know why I don’t mind either.

I look out the window again before grabbing my phone and charger and stuffing it in a bag. I throw in some socks, a blanket, and money before going downstairs and shoving in some food to eat during, including mint, chocolate, and strawberries. I walk quickly back to my room and to my window before I can change my mind. I open the window and throw my bag down before climbing after. I close my window while standing on the outside ledge and then climb down.

As soon as I hit the bottom, I grab my bag and run off nowhere as fast as I can. When I finally hit an open store, I go in immediately to avoid the cold. It’s a convenient store with a few tables so I go to sit at one. I pull out my phone and turn it on to notice that it’s two in the morning. The missed text from Zayn has turned into twenty, basically saying that I better go to school tomorrow or he’d come over and make me explain what’s going on. It makes me smile a little because I know that he will get neither. He also says how Louis isn’t replying to him but when he went to his house to confront him, he was crying in his bedroom. I try not to think about a vulnerable Louis crying on his bed as I pull out a water bottle from my bag to take a long drink.

I must have accidentally fell asleep in the booth because the next thing I know, I’m being shaken awake by a manager who looks a little concerned. “Son, are you alright?”

I lean up, still half asleep as I look at the time: six thirty-two. I nod my head and lean my head back on his table.

“Do you want me to call someone?”

“Please don’t. No one will care. I’m just trying to get away for a day or two to be sad about things and then go back home. I’m fine.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it was more than enough for him to bring me back a warm muffin and some hot chocolate. I thank him heaps before digging in, trying to ignore the little voice in my head saying _last meal last meal last meal_. When I’m done, I leave six pounds on the table and hope that it is enough. I leave before he sees and tries to stop me.

I grab the blanket from my bag and wrap it around me tightly before zipping it back up. I throw it around my left arm and continue walking nowhere. I try not to think as I walk because if I think then I may start crying and nothing’s worse than driving by some kid who looks homeless and won’t stop crying. I just keeping walking and walking and walking until it doesn’t even feel like an action anymore. I snuggle deeper into my blanket and decide to turn on my phone for a few seconds to see if anyone tried to get a hold of me but not long enough that if they are trying to track my phone they can get it fast enough.

There are only four text messages, three from Zayn and one from my mother.

_You’re going to school, I hope you realize that. I’m picking you up; you’re not getting out of this. I know where you live._

_Your mom says she hasn’t seen you but I don’t know if she’s lying or not and I don’t know which one is worse. You better get back home before I start searching for you._

_I swear, Styles, if I find you dead I’m going to kill you. Not really, because Louis would kill me. How would that work? I better find you alive, I’m looking._

_Are you done being a problem, yet? Your friend dropped by, but you had to have been gone when I specifically told you to go to school and stop embarrassing us. I hope he finds you dead._

I turn my phone off and sit behind some bushes so if Zayn was really looking for me, I wouldn’t be in dead center. I lie down on the ground and cuddle into the blanket. I know there is a bridge a few more blocks down and I should get there by sundown if I don’t delay, but I am just so cold and ready to get this over with. I know the water is going to be bloody freezing but I will only feel it for the first minutes. If that.

When I finally get back up, several cars have passed and I hope that one of them has already been Zayn so I don’t have to worry about running into him. I keep walking and walking and walking again until I finally see the outline of the bridge as the sun starts setting. I swallow hard and my heart beats loudly in my chest, but I continue to walk until I get to the middle to look over the edge. Waves crash roughly below and I can almost feel them swallowing me whole. I let the blanket fall off my shoulders onto the pavement and open my bag to grab my mints, strawberries, and chocolates. I sit on the edge and open them all to put one of each in my mouth to savor the last taste, hopefully the one I’ll taste during my journey. I get up to do the biggest gesture for Zayn and turn on my phone so when I’m dead, he’ll at least be able to trace where I’d done it.

As I sit back over the ledge, it feels surreal. I keep dreading the last trio of food but I keep rushing myself until it’s all gone. I throw the wrappings down on the pavement and grab my phone one last time to type one more text message.

_Louis,_

_I love you. I want you to be happy, and you’re happy so I’m happy but I’m not happy and I’m not happy because I’m not happy and it’s just a bunch of happysad feelings and I’m sorry that I ruined some of your days by being a bother. I hope Harmony makes you happy like you made me. You made me so so happy, Louis, and I am so grateful for you and I’m sorry if I said anything to make you hate me, to make you stop talking to me. I’m so sorry. Zayn has been freaking out and texting me, but I’m not worried about him. If he really wants to know where I am, he can use my phone to track it. You won’t find me, though, just a long bridge and some water. I’m okay. You’re happy. I’m happy. But not happy enough to stay._

_Sorry, this is probably annoying; you’re probably with Harmony and now she’s going to ask “_ who’s that babe? _” and you’ll probably say “_ some kid I used to talk to _” because that’s really all I am now. “Some kid you used to talk to”, “Some kid everyone used to bully”, “Some kid who couldn’t even kill himself properly”. That’s why I’m not doing it myself, I’m letting nature work a little magic, and maybe it’ll make me happy._

_And maybe I’ll see you again one day. Remember I love you, and on your saddest days when you feel nothing but worthless and think no one will love you: I do. I still do. I always will._

_Harry_

I send the message before I can even think about it and start crying a bit. I listen to my heartbeat for the last time; listen to my final breaths; listen to the waves crash the shore as if they’re calling my name.

I stand up and climb on the edge so I am standing on it now and take a deep breath.

“Harry, you get down here right now before I jump in after you.”

I freeze and my final breaths are not my final breaths and my heartbeat is beating louder and I’m afraid to turn around because I know who it is so I try to ignore him.

“I’m not kidding. If you jump right now, then I’ll jump in after you in an attempt to save you and Louis will have to host two funerals.”

I take a nervous breath, still looking at the water. “How did you find me?”

“You kept turning on your phone so it would leave your location and –”

“Stop coming closer, Zayn. Your voice is getting louder.”

“I’m not. Look, I’m still back here. I’m just not so sure you can hear me over the water.”

I slowly turn around but before I can do anything, he grabs my waist and wraps me close to his chest. I try to push him off with continuous _“Zayn, stop, stop, stop,”_ but he doesn’t. He keeps holding me and rocking me and I finally realize I’m crying so hard and the words don’t even sound like words. He grabs the blanket and lays it on my shoulders all the way around to his as I am in engulfed in warmth. When I stop crying, I take in how bad my feet hurt and how tired I feel but if I give up now then I will have to face my parents, school, Louis.

I try to push Zayn away again but he knows what I’m doing and just keeps holding me and holding me and I feel like I can’t breathe but I can breathe the most I have ever breathed since Louis left me. Zayn rubs my back for several minutes and there’s finally no sound but a phone ringing but I don’t even care.

I’m just disappointed.

    

I wanted to feel the cold water shoot down my lungs. I wanted to be surrounded by this blanket of comfort for death. I wanted to be rid of all the problems I seem to be putting myself into.

But now it’s the seventeenth of December and I’m lying in Zayn’s bed while he sits in his computer chair studying for finals. I personally don’t care about anything and that includes whatever I would receive on any final if I even decided to go to school anymore.

I could basically _hear_ the stress radiating off of Zayn but I knew that if I said anything, he would probably yell at me for disrupting his studying.

I also wanted to go home, surprisingly, because I would rather take being locked in my room alone than staying under Suicidal Watch with Zayn any day. As flattering as it was that he had carried me into his room after I conked out and _handcuffed my legs to the bottom of his bed_ _during the entire night_ , I did not want to be stuck with him for another minute. I knew if I tried to sneak out again, that would be the last straw (he was pretty angry the first time and yelled at me for a few minutes before walking off to hit some things), so that was definitely out of the question.

I was so thankful that I had someone right now but it felt suffocating, to be honest. Part of me wishes it was Louis instead of Zayn but the part that was closer to reality shouts at me saying that I should be grateful it’s anyone at all.

If anything, I’m really confused.

Zayn bullied me for so long and now that he realizes his words actually _do_ something, he’s trying to fix his wrong with some right. I don’t think it’s worth it because he can’t take back the years he told me to kill myself. He can’t take back the years of me cutting myself and starving myself to make some of the pain stop. The whole ordeal makes me cringe a bit; why would he care in the first place? He has a heart, I understand that, but one day, he’s just going to snap and leave me alone and I don’t know if I’m okay with that or not.

“Harry?” He asks, and I realize he’s already looking up from his book. “Are you hungry or something?”

“A little,” I admit. He was going to make me come downstairs with him anyway so if I’m being forced to get up, I might as well get food.

He puts a paper in the book before closing it and standing up. “Come on, then.” I stand and we both walk downstairs into his kitchen. He grabs a bag of Pizza Rolls and I sit on the stool so I will not disturb him. When he puts them in the oven, he sits down next to me on another stool. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.” I may be staying here by force but I wasn’t going to be rude to him; savior or not.

“I hope I word this right, but have you heard from Louis?”

I swallow thickly. “No.” I look down at the counter in front of my seat. “Have you?”

“He comes and he goes. Do you know why he’s hanging around Harmony? Something happen between you two?”

“I – uh, well –”

“Zayn!”

The door slams open and shut again and there’s running into the kitchen. “Zayn, ple –” He stops dead in his tracks when he sees me. _He. Him. Louis. My Louis. God, he looks so beautiful why does he look so beautiful?_ Before anyone can fathom that _Louis_ _is here_ , he runs up to me with a broken, “You bastard!” and hits me a few times before Zayn pulls him off. “You didn’t even do anything, did you?” He’s crying so hard right now and I wish I had drowned all over again. “Did you? You had me worried, you little bastard! You think this is funny? Zayn, let me go!”

“Louis, now isn’t the time. You need to go.”

“Excuse me?” He pulls out of Zayn’s arms to turn around and face him. “You were in on this, too? You sick bastard, both of you!” He turns around and starts walking to me again to put a finger in my face. “How could you say that about me? How could you think I would brush off your death like it was nothing? How _dare_ you think I don’t love you?” I let out a choked sob and I realize that I’ve been crying the whole time. Louis’ face softens immediately and after a few seconds, he pulls me in and gives me a hug. I can hear him crying on my shoulder but I don’t say anything.

When I finally get enough courage, I mutter out, “I think you need to go back. _She’s_ going to wonder where you are.”

He pulls back looking so hurt and I wish I could just kiss his tears away and tell him I’m joking but I’m not.

“Harry, I –”

“Louis,” Zayn walks closer. “You heard him. I think it’s time you go.”

Louis leans in slowly and kisses my forehead gently. I let out another sob when he pulls away and turns back to Zayn. “Are we friends anymore? I need to know before I leave because if we’re not, I’ll leave you alone.”

Zayn hesitates for a few seconds. “I’m your friend, Louis, but I don’t like the way you’ve treated Harry.”

He scoffs. “Like _you_ have room to talk. Weren’t you the one who bullied him to committing suicide multiple times in the first place?”

“Weren’t _you_ the one who almost made him jump off a bridge?” Zayn fires back. “Things happen and if you’re going to stand there and say I can’t be there for Harry when _you_ abandoned him, then you can get your ass out of my house _right now_.”

Louis looks like he’s been hit in the face and I feel so _so_ bad. “I – I didn’t aban – abandon him. No.” He turns to face me. “I didn’t leave you Harry, I still love you. You’re mine.”

“Louis, you need to leave. You’re going to make things worse.”

“Harry, you know I love you right?” I look down at his shoes. I miss those shoes. “You’re my baby. Baby. Baby, Harry, Sunshine, look at me.” I look up at him slowly. “I love you so much, yeah? You don’t have to say it back, but I do love you. I don’t love Harmony, okay? I want you to come over on my birthday.”

“That’s a week away, Louis, he might –”

“Say you’ll come over on my birthday, Harry. Just you and I, yeah? You and I, just like old times. I miss you.”

I let out another sob and Zayn grabs Louis’ arm to pull him out. “Louis, stop. _You_ pushed him away, stop hurting him.”

“Don’t take me away from my baby. Baby, baby. Zayn, _stop_.” The door closes and I get up to walk back to Zayn’s room and into his side bathroom. I lock the door behind me and lean against it, sitting myself on the floor.

“Harry?” He walks around downstairs. “Harry! You better be in here somewhere!” He walks into his room and to the bathroom door. He doesn’t knock, but I hear him sitting outside the door. “Hey, who needs him, right? We can eat our pizza rolls and then we can go get some frozen yogurt.” I cry silently, not saying a word. “I didn’t know he was coming over. I’m sorry he upset you. You don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve any of this. I’m really sorry for what I did before; I thought maybe if I stood up to someone, I could find the courage to stand up to my parents and then when everyone started working with me, it became a game. You aren’t a toy, Harry, and I realize this now and I’m sorry for everything I’ve said before. You don’t deserve to die; you deserve to be happy, whether it’s with someone you love or just yourself because you deserve more happiness than a lot of people, including myself. I’m going to trust that you’ll make the right choice and I’m going to finish cooking our pizza rolls. You’re welcome to come down anytime and I’ll save some for you. You’re something to someone. You may not be romantically something to me, but I love you and I want the best for you. Yeah, okay?” He shuffles up from his monologue and walks off. I hear the oven clap downstairs and I take a trembling breath.

Who needs Louis? Sometimes I do, but someone shouldn’t have _this_ much control over me. If Louis wants to go break a few more hearts for fun, then that’s who he is. I’m not going to get upset over someone who wouldn’t waste their breath on me. I calm down and walk downstairs. I’ve finished wiping my eyes when I’ve reached the kitchen. When Zayn notices me, he smiles warmly and walks over to get my plate of pizza rolls from the other counter, setting it next to his. I sit on the same stool and eat my pizza rolls.

It’s okay to be sad sometimes, but it’s not good to dwell on things. I’ve dwelled on Louis for far too long.

This is a good pizza roll.

Louis was just mad because I wasn’t dead. He was hoping to come over with a _Zayn, please tell me he’s finally done it_ and he was disappointed. I don’t need him. Zayn can be my friend. And if he decides to leave me, too, well, that’s his choice and there wouldn’t be anything I could do to change his mind.

When I look up, Zayn is staring at me sadly. I furrow my eyebrows before I realize my plate is empty and I’m chewing on my finger nail.

“In all honesty, do you miss him?” Zayn asks softly, as if afraid I would cry from the mention of him.

Who needs him anyway?

“I think I miss who I thought he was.” I answer, putting my plate in the sink. “He was the type of person I thought would fall in love slowly and give me hugs when I had sad days and we could joke around all the time but from his behavior, I can see he is not the person I fell in love with.” I sit back down on the stool. “I was blinded by love, most likely.”

“Did you love him? Do you?”

I sigh softly. “Does anyone know what love is anymore? Really?”

He puts his plate in the sink and grabs his keys. Frozen yogurt, oh yeah. “What do you mean?”

I follow him out to the car. “Does anyone know what the definition of love is? Do you?”

“I guess it’s someone who you get along with.” He pauses and looks at me. “What do you think love is?”

I think for a minute as we get in his car and he starts it. “I believe love is like a home. It’s nice and warm and it makes you feel like you belong. Not a house, a _home_. Home is love. Home is where you feel safe, where nothing could hurt you unless you let it. I believe love is a guarantee; a guarantee that they will stay, that you will always feel the warm and happy feeling. Love is happiness.”

“How did you feel with Louis?”

“I felt happy. I felt like if I had a reason to stay, it would be because of him. It’s stupid, honestly, because I barely knew him, but I felt like home with him. I’m okay that he left me because he’s happy now and if he can’t be happy being my home, then I hope wherever he lands, wherever he parks his car every night, he’s happy. That’s all I want for him.”

“He said he didn’t love Harmony today.”

“Probably just trying to make things better.”

He pulls into drive thru and orders two frozen yogurt cones, one chocolate and one strawberry. He thanks the cashier and hands me my strawberry. We stay silent on the ride back to his house and it stays quiet until I ask him when I’m going home.

“Do you honestly want to go home, or are you trying to avoid me?”

“It’s not you, Zayn. I’m just ready to go home.”

“Can I tell you something? My opinion on how you’re feeling?”

I gulp loudly and nervously. I nod.

“I think you’re on the brink of giving up. No, wait, I think you _have_ given up and it’s sad to watch. It’s sad to see you give your life away so quickly. Do you not understand how much more life has to give you?”

“I believe that everything happens for a reason.” I respond, sitting myself on his couch. He shuffles onto the recliner and leans back. “I believe there was a reason why I didn’t die the first time, or the second, or any time. I do believe that life has meaning because where would we be without some people? I also believe that there was a reason Louis was put into my life at the time he was; a couple days after my first attempt and there he was, looking so lovely. I miss how he was when he first met me. Properly, that is.”

“Why?”

“It seemed like he cared more then, and now it seems like I am just trying to pull some competition to get his attention. I’m not sure if I deserve it or not, though. I’m not sure if I deserve any of this or not, like, was I awful in a past life? Was I an annoying infant?”

“Louis talked about you a lot, you know. When he first started talking to you that one day, he wouldn’t shut up about you. He would always ask the lads why they picked on you and asked me to stop as well. At the time, I thought it was annoying, but looking back, I’m glad he did something.” Zayn shifts uncomfortably. “I hate thinking about the way I treated you, the way anyone treated you. You ask yourself if you deserve it or not while the guys and I used to laugh about things you probably didn’t even do to convince ourselves what we were doing was right. It wasn’t, God, it wasn’t. Never think it was, because it wasn’t; you didn’t deserve that.”

“I appreciate your apology, Zayn. It doesn’t take back anything you said or did but I feel like it shows closure.” I take a sigh that shakes heavily. “About Louis, I know he cared. I understand that he has a huge heart, and I am grateful for that for many reasons. I just think that his huge heart was the reason for our certain conversations and friendship; I think he just had too big of a heart to stand by and watch me continue to get bullied. He didn’t want anything for himself. When I stopped getting bullied constantly, though, he left. His job was done.”

“That wasn’t a job for him, Harry, don’t say that.” Zayn leans forward, deep in thought. “He is madly in love with you. I just don’t think he’ll admit it to himself or maybe something stopped him from telling you. He is so whipped by you and it physically hurts me to see that you can’t see it.”

“Why would you leave someone that you’re madly in love with? Why would he hurt me this way if he was in love with me? I never hurt him.”

Zayn stands up and sits next to me, grabbing my hand to rub. “He might’ve been confu –”

I pull my hand back violently. “ _Don’t_. Don’t say he was confused. If he’s gay, he’s gay, he’s not confused.”

“Harry, I –”

“God,” I scoff and chuckle to myself. “You think I’m just confused, too, right? This is _confusion_ to you. I know who I am, and I know that I am in love with Louis Tomlinson, and he’s a _guy_. It’s not confusion, it’s _love._ ”

Zayn stays silent for a few more seconds before he starts smiling softly to himself. My eyebrows pull together as I ask him what the heck he’s smiling about at a time like this. “You’re in love with Louis Tomlinson, Harry.” My eyebrows shoot up in shock and realization. Zayn pulls me in a hug and laughs while repeating, “Harry, you are in love with Louis, and that’s _okay_.”

I don’t notice I’m crying until I realize how true it is, and how true it is that Louis will never love me like I love him. I’m not his Baby, I’m not his Sunshine, but he’s _my_ Baby and he’s this beautiful ray of light in my life that I am so thankful I had.

“Zayn, aside from the obvious, what’s the real reason you found me a few days ago? Why didn’t you just let me jump? It would’ve solved a lot of problems with Louis and with you.”

He pulls back and looks like he wants to slap me. “Why would I let anyone die? Especially you?”

“If it would’ve been someone else on that bridge, you wouldn’t know any way to stop them, they would’ve jumped eventually, and you would’ve been scarred but it would’ve been inevitable. I wanted my suicide to be inevitable, I had it all planned out perfectly and you had to come in and ruin it. Why?”

He thinks for a minute, probably processing the question. I let him think it over while I wonder what Louis is doing right now and I force myself not to think _Harmony_.

“You’re a very sad person, Harry.”

I wait for him to continue. He doesn’t. “And? What does that have to do with what I asked you? That actually _proves_ why I should kill myself.”

“I think you believe that Louis is this anchor holding you onto existence, am I right?” I shrug a bit, unsure myself. “Louis isn’t an anchor, Harry. You are not a ship. You are a person, and you can’t rely on someone to hold you up when you start to sink; life doesn’t work that way. I think you and Louis have this connection, this wonderful bond, stronger than an anchor because that’s just who you two are. You watch over each other. It’s nice to be watched over, but one day the rope to the anchor is going to break and you can’t just jump in and save a broken anchor.”

“I’m unsure if I’m the ship or the anchor now.”

“Harry, you’re the ship, Louis is the anchor. The rope is what you two had, it’s gone now. When Louis left you, the rope finally broke. He sunk down and now he’s with other anchors that have sunken to the bottom. Whatever caused that rope to break, that’s what broke the friendship, or relationship, you two had. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Not really,” I admit. “I get what you’re saying with the ship and the rope but I don’t understand what you want me to do about Louis now that he’s sunken.”

“You have to let him go.”

“How can I let go of my anchor? He’s holding up my ship.”

“You let him swim. Your ship doesn’t need him; your ship just needs _you_.”

“What if I want to swim with him?”

“You’ll end up hurt, or dead. You know what they say about sunken ships.”


	7. 07 || Happy Birthday ||

             

_“Weep for yourself, my man, you’ll never be what is in your heart. Weep, little lion man, you’re not as brave as you were at the start.”_

  

**Chapter 07 | |** _Happy Birthday_ **| |**

 

_December 24 th, 2014_

  

It’s Louis’ birthday, but I wish it wasn’t.

For an entire week, I had tried to avoid talking about the upcoming date but it was impossible to just _skip_ over today. Zayn could see how uncomfortable I was getting but even he knew that I couldn’t ignore today.

To make matters worse, my mother called the other day and Zayn’s mother accidently answered. She was very mad at Zayn for lying to her saying that my mother knew the entire time. Zayn’s mother and mine both agreed that I would go home Christmas. Zayn was upset, too.

I slept on the couch downstairs in fear of Louis just walking in; by lying on the couch, I had more ability to run out the back door and far, far away. By morning, I had hardly slept at all and I was just watching the numbers on the clock change repeatedly. Zayn was walking downstairs as soon as the last number turned into a seven. He rubs his eyes a bit before noticing the lump on the couch.

“What are you doing, Harry?” He asks, walking over to me and crossing his arms. “Did you try to sneak out?”

“I think if I tried to sneak out I wouldn’t have came back, yeah?” I smile.

He chuckles softly. “Touché.” He walks over to the kitchen. “Do you want some breakfast?”

I pull the blanket high over my face. I can smell Zayn’s aftershave on the fabric. “I think I’ll puke it up. I’m not feeling so good. Do you think we can convince him I can’t come over?”

Zayn’s feet shuffle in the kitchen and I hear the microwave open. It closes and after four beeps, it starts heating. The shuffling comes closer and the blanket is ripped from my body. “I don’t think we could convince Louis that you can’t come over even if you _were_ puking your guts out. He’d probably try to take care of you.”

I sit up to rub my swollen eyes. “He doesn’t need to take care of me, he’s got Harmony.”

“I would hit you if you weren’t so upset about this.” Zayn says immediately after. “I knew you were going to say something like that.”

“How dear of you.” I reply. “Maybe I should get better so you can slap me to tomorrow.”

“Maybe you should eat the eggs I’ve prepared for you and be happy. You don’t have to stay the night or anything; he probably just wants to clear his conscience. I can just be a phone call away.” He pulls on my arm to lift me from comfort. “Come on, then.” I moved from the cushion to wood as I sit on the stool and admire the smell Zayn is producing with his cooking.

His house is absolutely beautiful, with cream colored walls and a soft azure for the main carpets. The kitchen tile is black and white traditional and the countertops are made of glass. The kitchen sort of has a circle tone to it, as the counter I’m sitting at is like a bar, with his kitchen on one side and the living room on the other. The furniture in the living room just consists of a long couch in the shape of an L, a built-in fireplace, a huge clock above (but instead of the original clock, it is just made of numbers), photographs on shelves, and a stereo on a different shelf. There is a painting of a forest engulfed with snow on the wall opposite of the fireplace.

“Harry?” Zayn snaps his fingers in my ear. I turn my head to face him with a nice smile. He gives me a welcoming smile while giving me a fork and the plate full of eggs. “Had me worried there, mate.”

“Sorry,” I mutter. I fort a pile of eggs and shove them in my mouth while wondering what Louis could possibly say to me tonight. I try not to think too much but the image of Louis kissing me doesn’t seem to leave my mind. I ignore the pain in my chest as I eat another forkful.

There is a soft knock on Zayn’s front door and I almost choke on my food. Zayn rubs my shoulder gently for a second before getting up and tending to the other room. I grip the edge of the counter tightly and try to concentrate on breathing. I can hear them talking quietly in the next room and I can only catch tidbits of their conversation.

“I swear to…you can’t do this to…he doesn’t…”

“Zayn, I’ll take care of…he’s my baby…”

“It’s not fair to…keep hurting…don’t understand…”

I hear their feet start to shuffle into the kitchen doorway.

“Please just let me see him, I miss him.”

“It’s your own fault.”

When they stop, I don’t turn around. A pair of feet walks toward me and I feel a hand set on my shoulder gently. It’s Zayn. He leans down to whisper in my ear, “Louis came to get you. We’ll be in the living room so you can finish your breakfast.” He leans up slowly and gives the top of my head a soft kiss before taking Louis into the living room. I finish my eggs as slow as I can until it is impossible to sit alone in here any longer. I put my plate in the sink and join them in the living room.

I sit on the couch closest to Zayn and listen to their conversation.

Louis nods to whatever Zayn had said before. “I’ll make sure to have him back tomorrow. I don’t want his mother to get even more hateful toward him.”

“I don’t think it’s really up to you if Harry wants to come back tonight, though. He doesn’t even want to go as it is.”

I stare at a little piece of lint stuck to the carpet. “I know he doesn’t, but he’ll enjoy himself in the end. I need to fix this. And you want to stay tonight, right, Harry?”

My heart thuds in my throat and my eyes get slightly wider when I realize that he’s actually talking to me. My hands start to shake and Zayn quickly takes them in his own to reduce it.

“We already talked about it; he knows I’m just a phone call away and if my phone goes off with so much as one ring, I’m on my way.” I’m so thankful to have a Zayn right now.

“I appreciate the gesture, Zayn, I really do,” Zayn hands are ripped from mine and replaced with smaller ones. “but I’ll keep my baby safe.”

Zayn takes my hands from Louis’ and rubs his thumb over them. “I don’t think you should touch him, yet. He doesn’t like it.”

Louis scoffs and glares at Zayn. “What makes you think you know what’s best for him? He’s always nervous, and that’s okay.”

“He’s not comfortable around you anymore, Louis. Leave it be, or he’s not even going to go with you.”

Louis’ face drops to such a sad point that I almost cry looking at it. “But it’s my _birthday_.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t take Harry’s feelings into consideration. He’s only going with you because I’m making him and it’s your birthday, but if you’re going to act as if you didn’t tear him to pieces, then you can just leave now, _alone_.”

I sit in silence for a few moments before Louis turns to me. “Go get dressed for me, alright? I’ll be waiting here, take your time. I’m sorry if I’m pushing it, I just missed you. If you want me to leave you alone I will, but if there’s a chance we can still fix this, then go get ready and we can eat some cake at my house while we wait for guests.”

And _God_ did that hurt; the fact that I was in control of this situation now. I could tell him to leave and I’d never have to worry about him breaking my heart again or I could go with him and maybe remember what happiness felt like.

Happiness was Louis.

I swallow thickly before noticing everyone’s eyes on me. I finally let out a quiet, “Will she be there?”

Louis gives me a sad look. “Harry –”

“Answer the question.”

“Yes.”

Zayn tenses visibly and snaps his head at Louis. “So you want to come over and _demand_ that Harry spend time with you when you go behind his back and stay with your _girlfriend_?” My eyes start to water and my chest feels empty. “You know what, bullshit.” He lets go of my hands and grabs Louis by his collar. “You get your ass out of here right now before I beat it. Don’t you _ever_ come near him again or I swear to God, send me to prison now.”

Louis looks so confused and heartbroken and I’m trying not to care because I shouldn’t, but I want to push Zayn away and hug him to death but I’m stuck on the couch staring at my hands that tingle but feel so numb.

“Zayn, wait –”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Zayn moves his grip from his collar to his chin and brings his face directly in front of his. “Listen closely, Tomlinson. You and I are no longer friends. You’re an asshole and a dick and I can’t deal with it anymore. You can find yourself some friends who approve of your lifestyle because I don’t like how you’ve treated Harry and dumped him off like some insufficient rag.”

“Harry, baby, please –”

Zayn pushes him against the wall and I stand nervously. “Don’t talk to him! Who gave you the right?”

I walk over to where Zayn has Louis cornered and look at Zayn – avoiding Louis’ gaze. “Zayn, it’s not worth it. It’s his birthday: let him spend it with who he wants to.”

I see Louis light up in the corner of my eye as Zayn lets him down.

“You come with Louis, yeah?” He grabs one of my hands, but I pull it away. I swallow my pride and take a deep breath before looking at his beautiful blue eyes.

“No, Louis. You can go spend your day with Harmony.” His smile drops and his eyes start to water. There’s a lump in my throat, but I manage to say, “Happy birthday” before walking up the stairs to cry under Zayn’s bed sheets.

There’s muffling downstairs before a loud thud sounds and I whimper under the cotton. I grip the sheets tightly when the door slams open. I keep my head under and wait for them to get the clue and leave. The blanket gets ripped from my clothed body and Louis is crying.

“Baby, baby, baby, please.” He pulls me into his arms and I resist the urge to stay. I immediately push him off and attempt to free myself multiple times. He holds tighter and my chest caves in with more tears. “I’m so sorry, baby, I don’t want Harmony; I want you. My parents –”

“ _Stop, stop, stop, please!_ ” I cover my ears with my palms and cry hard. He plays with my hair a bit before I feel myself passing. I snap myself awake and remove my palms. My eyes are swollen and tired and my nose is running. He grabs a tissue from the side table and wipes my nose.

“Please, hear me out, Harry, baby,” He wipes the moisture from my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs but I barely feel it with the numbness.

“Where’s Zayn?”

“He’s downstairs.” He looks uneasy.

“I doubt he would let you come up here alone with how you treated me.” I wipe my continuous runny nose on the sleeve of my shirt.

“Well, um – and I’m only telling you this because I want to earn your trust back – but, I sort of punched him unconscious.”

“ _What?_ ” Suddenly, there’s a bang downstairs and my pulse races.

“Please, let me explain, he’s going to murder me. I have to fix this; I can’t sleep at night without you.”

The door bangs open and Zayn walks in with a baseball bat. “Get out of my house, Tomlinson, before I beat the living shit out of you.”

Louis looks at me pleadingly and I die a little inside. His eyes are so pretty, so so pretty. “Zayn, I want him to explain.” Zayn drops the bat in confusion and Louis chokes out a relief. “I want you to stay in the room though.”

“Harry, wait a minute.” Zayn tries to process what just happened, and I don’t blame him. “You can’t just let him hurt you like that and expect that it won’t happen again. You can forgive him but you can’t forget. You tried to _off yourself, and he didn’t even care_.”

“Zayn.” Louis freezes. “I came to see if he was alright.”

“No, I remember you coming over to bitch at him.”

“It’s not my fault! I thought you were playing a cruel joke on me because of how I treated Harry!”

“It should’ve damn been a joke if it got you this worked up. You deserve to feel this way. You made Harry attempt suicide, and now you act as if you didn’t! What are you supposed to do on Monday? Just pretend that Harry doesn’t exist again and continue to kiss Harmony?”

“No, I’m not going to date Harmony anymore.”

Zayn scoffs. “Yeah, like that does anything. I want to know why you did it in the first place.”

“That’s what I’m explaining, Zayn.” He looks at me. “Harry, I’m so sorry for what I did. My parents, they did a guilt trip. They were talking about how their trip was and homosexuals and all of a sudden they suffocated me with questions and I didn’t want to get kicked out.” He’s full on crying now and it’s hard to make out some words so I lean my head against his chest as a sort of comfort. He wipes his nose on another tissue. “They told me – they told me how they wouldn’t want me if I was gay. I can’t help it. I don’t want a girlfriend. I don’t want Harmony. I want you. I want Harry. I want my Harry. I miss my Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry…”

  

I don’t think you ever understand the difficulty of a decision until it comes down to a do or a don’t. I know I didn’t, especially at the time. But _Louis_. My Louis.

He understood a certain pain that I put up with and it hurt my heart to know that he was hurting a similar amount as me. He didn’t deserve it. I deserved getting dumped because I’m not a girl, and his parents would be happier if I was.

Maybe if I was a girl, life would be easier.

I think people just say that, though. _If I was…then…_ and it’s just a repeat until the end, but where exactly is the end? Maybe there is no end, maybe these are all beginnings. Maybe we all wake up in the same bed in the same town because these are all beginnings. Until we wake up somewhere else does the beginning change. Beginnings stay the same; I remember watching movies when I was a child and they all started out the same, but the sequel always started out differently. Maybe we are all movies, and life is a soundtrack and sometimes you have to put up with what life gives you.

So maybe I forgave Louis, but I don’t forget what happened. I understand, though, and that counts for a lot. You never really forget anything, it’s always somehow there. I remember in middle school when I was dating this boy and he dragged me everywhere he went. He would pull my arm and almost popped it out of place sometimes. I always forgave him, because love seems forgivable back then, but I’ll never forget how he embarrassed me in front of his friends multiple times until he did his finale. When he broke up with me, I was devastated, but I understood.

I understand Louis. I really do.

  

Monday morning, I walk to school silently. I pray that Louis keeps his word, but feel guilty that a poor girl is getting hurt. Or maybe I’m getting hurt. I don’t know. You never really know anymore.

Do we ever?


End file.
